


We Could Be Heroes

by madamerioulette



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Implied Sexual Content, Language, M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 74,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerioulette/pseuds/madamerioulette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about what happens when two sassy assholes - genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark and would-be king, God of Mischief Loki - become partners. Set one year after the Manhattan incident, Loki pays a visit to his favorite Avenger one night with the intent of making Tony his puppet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song Heroes by David Bowie and genuine lack of sleep.

Stark Mansion, a building so obnoxious on the coast of California Steve Rogers said it rivaled the Stark Tower in New York City. Regardless, home was home to Tony Stark and he wasn’t about to take advice from a man who ran around in a spangled outfit while fighting bad guys. Ever since the Avengers Initiative had been given the green light – for the most part, although Tony was convinced Fury was still operating on his own agenda because he was the type of guy who didn’t take “no” lightly – the Stark Mansion had been quiet and nearly vacant save for JARVIS, Dum-E, and U. Pepper Potts used it on occasion when she had to take care of business Tony was too busy saving the world to even think about or lazily drinking himself into a stupor at a party he shouldn’t be bothering with. Every so often Tony would fly in after a day of work though, to be by himself and relish in the silence he so very rarely got to enjoy. If Mr. 1940s wasn’t badgering him about his recklessness, Thor was channeling the weather through his emotions; Stark Tower was not the most peaceful place to be sometimes. Besides – he would tell Fury once he figured out he’d gone off the radar – the suit needed a few tune-ups, not to mention his current arc reactor core was in need of a switch off.

There was something about the procedure that he didn’t feel quite right about doing around the Avengers – something besides Thor’s lack of gentleness or Bruce Banner’s controllable anger management. It was a touchy subject to talk about let alone explain when someone walked in to the lab to see Tony’s chest opened up with a softball-sized hole in the middle. Pepper aside, no one else knew much about it and no one asked. Bruce did once, out of sheer curiosity, but immediately faltered into a stuttering apology after Tony seemed to become physically rigid and his jaw clenched. There was much more behind his arc reactor than just his heart, much more than Tony liked to admit.

Iron Man, a shimmer of red and pale gold, zipped through the comfortably warm California air that smelled of salty beaches. A shooting star in the night sky, he corkscrewed towards the mansion and disappeared into the tunnel that led to his garage. He landed gracefully in the wide opening and as soon as his feet touched down, Jarvis was already stripping the metal from his flesh leaving nothing but the billionaire – which really wasn’t nothing. As the last bits from his boots were gently plucked from him, Tony headed straight to the bar as per his usual route; nothing like a drink before self-operating on one’s chest.

“ _Sir_ ,” the polite sound of Jarvis’s voice filtered through the air. “ _Director Fury is –_ ”

“Not here,” Tony cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“ _He says it is important,_ ” Jarvis pressed.

The brunette rolled his eyes; everything was important with Fury when it came to Tony doing the exact opposite of what he wanted. “Not here.”

“ _Of course, sir_.”

In the back of his mind, he knew he’d only have about ten minutes of peace and quiet before a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, or Nick Fury himself, came knocking at his door. Ordinarily he wouldn’t mind too much if an agent came to pay him a visit, Phil Coulson used to have that fortunate, or unfortunate, job of keeping Stark in check, but after that little episode a year ago… Tony gripped the bottle of scotch with enough force to shatter it if the glass wasn’t half an inch thick. It was easy to pretend it didn’t bother him much around the others, but by himself it was much harder – he liked Coulson, tried his best to keep out of trouble just so he wouldn’t ruin his vacation with the cellist and purposely tried to spice up his job by acting out when he was around. The stone-faced expression wouldn’t let up but he could see the amusement surface in his eyes. Tony poured the scotch with a sour pout on his face.

With the glass cup in hand, Tony made his way out to the balcony to enjoy his drink. As he looked up at the dark sky, pale moon round and glowing eerily down at him, part of him appreciated the serenity and the peaceful sound of waves crashing against the rocks below his mansion, the other part was watching out for the airship circling him from above. He inhaled deeply, shutting his eyes to the world, the scent of seawater thick in the air with an underlying fragrance of ozone. The ice in his drink chinked together lightly as the cup was brought up to his lips for a gentle sip, but as the taste began to intoxicate his taste buds he figured _what the hell_ and cocked his head back to finish it off in one graceful gulp. It stung on the way down but left a tingling, warm sensation afterwards that settled his thoughts of Coulson from earlier. It was surreal that everything happened just about a year ago, it only seemed like yesterday the Chitauri were raining down above Manhattan.

“ _Sir_ ,” Jarvis’s voice broke through the calm moment the liquor had produced. “ _There is a –_ ”

Tony raised his eyebrows questioningly but wasn’t interested enough to open his eyes. He counted to ten instead before visually inquiring why Jarvis had suddenly stopped mid-sentence. Turning towards the house, he found the electricity had faltered out, leaving the mansion in the dark of the night. It was considerably strange considering his mansion was working off the grid and on its own, self-generating power; the source of which was underneath the water, deep enough that it wouldn’t be disturbed by anything but aquatic life. Perturbed, Tony balanced the glass on the railing and took a cautious step closer, lips pursed and brows furrowed. For a moment the air whistled almost comically, the scent of ozone filtering through once more, raising the hairs on the back of the brunette’s neck. The unconscious urge to call out to Jarvis gripped him, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good considering the electricity was down. His phone was in his pocket, but what good would it do to call anyone about his power suspiciously going out? Fury? The bastard probably clipped his power – how incredibly mature of him. With a soft grunt, Tony moved his hand to grab the phone but stopped short as he caught his reflection in the balcony windows. There he was, Black Sabbath T-shirt with the arc reactor glowing furiously behind the thin fabric, the black leggings and flexible rubber boots he wore beneath the suit, and behind him a figure he couldn’t quite make out. Tall, hardly outlined by the moon’s light, with a pair of unreal eyes staring, _boring_ into his soul. Tony flung his upper body around, elbow taut and ready to connect with the mysterious figure, but all it hit was the innocent glass of melting ice. It tilted over and tumbled off the railing, glass and contents hurling towards the rocks below.

His heart was somewhere in his throat, throbbing and erratic with his uneven gasps of breath. What the hell was that? What the _literal hell_ was that? Tired, he was tired, and maybe the scotch hadn’t helped but he could almost _feel_ the cold aura behind him, and those eyes… Tony shook his head. Bed, he’d turn in early and worry about Fury’s wrath in the morning over another glass of scotch and whatever Pepper had managed to keep in his refrigerator. He took a step back, moving on his heel to turn but stopped short as his back became flush with something very solid. A physical shiver worked its way up his spine, took hold and didn’t let go as much as Tony wished it to leave. He opened his mouth to gasp but an icy, lithe hand covered his lips in a painful grasp and he was suddenly knocked off his feet, falling, swirling into nothing and then… sand.

Tropical ocean air filled his senses, the light breeze smelling thickly of ozone, the sea crashing against the shore, the sound of palm tree leaves fluttering – the horizon line of jungle instead of cityscape told him he was not in Malibu anymore. Tony swallowed the knot in his throat and it was hard, but he managed as he turned around in slow steps to try and gather where the hell he was. As his eyes swiveled to the shoreline he saw the dark figure again, no more than a yard away from him, a looming silhouette in the moon’s glow. He could make out the obscene size on the, presumably, male figure – about six foot at least – wearing some sort of a trench coat that fell around his calves; his stance was rigid but dominatingly and threatening. The eyes, without help of reflectivity from the moon behind him, seemed to shine an iridescent green. He couldn’t put a name to the face as it was clouded in shadow, but he felt his skin crawl with a dormant memory of who this could’ve been. They kept daring eye contact until the taller, darker figure pulled his hands behind his back.

“Good evening, Mr. Stark,” the voice was low and smooth, hinted with familiarity.

Tony swallowed again before quirking his lips upward in a nervous smirk. “Didn’t expect to see you, Rock of Ages. Last we heard, daddy dearest sent you hurling into exile.”

Physically, there was no response to his comment, but when Loki spoke again his voice was lit with slight irritation. “That is none of your concern, _Stark_.” He snarled. A breath of silence between them before he continued, “Exile holds no boundaries for one such as me.”

Tony shrugged, taking half a step back. He felt naked without his technology. “Clearly. So what’s with the romantic getaway? I didn’t peg you for the ‘I like long walks on the beach’ type of guy.”

“Privacy,” Loki replied in a matter-of-fact tone, tilting his head to the right. “You and I have unfinished business.”

“Is that so? Well business hours are nine to five every other – ” The distance between them closed quickly with a long stride towards Tony and a firm hand around his neck. His feet slid away from the sand as Loki pulled him up so they were eye to eye. “Or now, I have time now.”

Nearly two inches apart, the brunette could see Loki’s face a lot clearer now. The skin around his eyes was painfully hallowed and bruised, cheekbones sunken and taut, and his lips that were upturned into a sneer were chapped and scarred, a faint color of red smeared against them. The black hair was flat and shiny against the moon’s light, longer than the last time they had been together. His free hand came up to spread around the glowing light at Tony’s chest, pressing his palm against the arc reactor with sinister interest. Behind the tightly gripped fingers the man swallowed, glancing down with worried eyes before turning them up to meet Loki’s sickly face.

“Still a bit sour I see,” Tony managed to choke out.

“I want to know how this works,” he growled lowly. “You have heart, Mr. Stark, but it is unlike the others. I wish to have it.”

“Buy me dinner first, then maybe we’ll talk,” he grinned half-heartedly and is rewarded with a tightening sensation around his throat. He wanted to remind Loki that killing him will get him no where but he resisted the urge to be snarky to save his breath for better uses – like breathing.

“I am _asking_ with what little patience I have left for you. Tell me,” he breathed the words out like a gaseous poison. “Or I will _take it_.”

Tony dully noted how the God was losing his usual calm demeanor. Was it desperation he saw in Loki’s eyes, or something deeper – fear? It didn’t faze him either way, but what does elicit an expression was the clenching grip on his arc reactor. He flicked his eyesight downwards, watching the thin fingers claw at the glowing mechanism with impatience.

“Mr. Stark,” he heard his name echo almost softly in his ears. The sudden shift in tones caused him to look back up, and he swore he was looking into the depths of emerald jewels. Tony shivered at the intrusive voice. “Tell me, what exactly does this – ” he paused, tapping gently at the arc reactor. “ – accomplish.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tony was spilling his story without so much as a stutter. He started at the beginning when his caravan was attacked in the Middle East, how he was attacked by terrorists using his own inventions, the shrapnel lodged in his chest that threatened to kill him every second, and the creation of the arc reactor, its purpose, and how it functioned. With every word that fell from the brunette’s lips without fail, Loki’s tightlipped smile loosened into a malicious grin, eyes widening with mischief, gears working out a scheme. When Tony finished, he felt drained and dazed, like he’d suddenly drunk an entire keg of rum without the nauseating feeling to vomit. He blinked up at Loki; did he just say all of that aloud? But how, and why?

“What a fascinating tale, Mr. Stark,” Loki feigned playfulness as his finger tapped rhythmically on his arc reactor through the T-shirt. His voice was _inside_ of Tony’s head and it was surprisingly pleasant in a terrifying way. It lulled him into a false sense of security he couldn’t fight off and relaxed a bit in the God’s hold. “You have truly enlightened me. You will be sure to keep this meeting to yourself if you wish to continue breathing.”

Daftly, the mortal nodded.

“So obedient,” he chuckled, finally releasing his grasp on the other’s throat but kept the touch on his chest.

The moon was suddenly shining far too bright for Tony’s liking and the sand beneath his feet seemed to disappear. There was a solid piece of something underneath his back and his head was throbbing with an intense pain. Blue skies, the smell of seawater and the sound of waves crashing against rocks, and Jarvis… Jarvis?

“ _Sir_?” he called out for the umpteenth time, but it was the first Tony could hear him.

“What…” Tony groaned and his throat felt dry.

“ _Should I be worried that you spent the night out on the balcony_?”

What? Tony didn’t verbally repeat himself but he screwed up his face, wrinkling his brow and crinkled the bridge of his nose. He didn’t remember falling asleep, let alone lying down on the balcony to do so. Vaguely, he wondered if he drank too much but the undeniable need to vomit wasn’t settling in his stomach. In fact, there wasn’t even a bottle – full or empty – anywhere on the balcony.

“Jarvis,” the brunette squeezed his eyes shut before rolling on his hands and knees to pull himself up. “Do you have a video recording of last night?”

A slight pause. “ _No. It seems power to the entire mansion was cut at twenty-three hundred hours. Should I call Director Fury?_ ”

Right. He was probably pissed about Tony running off without so much as a goodbye. He rolled his eyes but shook his head. “No, but get a suit ready. I’m going to check out the power line.”


	2. Chapter 2

A day had passed since Tony woke up on his balcony without a hinting memory about why he was out there in the first place. The memory perplexed him, as did the power line that hadn’t been tampered with, but after a full search of his house – twice – and finding that nothing was missing, Tony stored the incident in the back of his mind. Either Fury was trying to give him a hard time and developing some sense of bland humor or the power reactor was beginning to run out of juice.

The billionaire stared at the translucent screen in front of him, watching himself walk onto the balcony with his drink in hand. JARVIS’s voice called out to him but he didn’t finish his sentence as the video feed flickered for half a second and Tony was on the floor, night having turned to day in the blink of an eye. The glass of scotch was gone from the scene and while it was the only thing he could find different between the two scenes it was hardly important to finding out what happened. He blinked, brows knotted together as the gears behind his eyes turned with theory after theory. The power grid wasn’t the problem; it was more of the fact that he woke up on the ground. While there had been a terrible ache tumbling around his head, there were no signs of a bruise or cut. A calloused finger tapped rhythmically on his chin as he leaned back into his chair. He let out a long sigh – this was puzzling and Tony didn’t like puzzles he couldn’t figure out.

“JARVIS, what were you gonna say to me before the power cut?” the brunette asked.

“ _There was an unusual energy signal in the vicinity of the mansion. I did not recognize it nor was I able to get video feed of the anomaly._ ”

Of course not. “Unusual energy signal, huh? Did you pinpoint where it was coming from?” Tony hopped off his chair before the AI could answer, heading towards the garage’s exit.

“ _West side of the house, sir. About six meters from the fence._ ”

“Let’s go take a look see, then, shall we?”

There wasn’t anything to look at, though. Tony stalked out westward, counting about twenty feet from the west fence line and found a total of zero clues and zilch readings that there had ever been an unusual energy signal. He frowned, kicking the heel of his foot onto the grass before looking skyward. Even if there had been something out here, it still wouldn’t explain why his self-sustaining house lost power. With a huff, Tony turned to face the mansion; perhaps there was something he was overlooking. It wouldn’t be the first time he overthought a problem, Pepper would attest to that. Nothing was making sense though, that large time gap in the footage was eating at him.

“There’s nothing out here JARVIS,” Tony announced half-heartedly, beginning his trek back to the house. “Scan the place for me, would you?”

For a moment there was silence on the other end and before the brunette could come back with a sarcastic response, a static voice broke over the phone in his pocket.

“Stark.” It was solid and cold with an undertow of familiar irritation that said he had better things to do than to revolve his attention around the world of Tony Stark.

The billionaire made a sour face, shoving a hand into his jean pocket to retrieve the translucent phone. “You know I hate it when you hack into my stuff.”

There was what sounded like a chuckle on the other end, but the voice didn’t waiver from its former tone. “Only returning the favor. You know I hate it when you disappear from the grid.”

“I’m a grown adult, Fury.”

They’ve had this conversation before; Iron Man – and by extension Tony Stark – was part of the Avengers therefore whenever Iron Man – and by extension Tony Stark – took a leave of absence it was important that someone be notified. Or so said in the contract Tony hadn’t read.

“Well maybe you should act like one. Now what are you doing in Malibu?” Fury sighed and Tony could almost see the vein on the side of his head pulsing. “The last time you went into hiding you were dying.”

“I’m not hiding, I’m on vacation. Do you know what it’s like living in Stark Tower with the Avengers? You know what, don’t answer that. I just need a bit of me time – ”

“I was under the impression time revolved around you – ”

“And I need to do a bit of maintenance on the arc reactor, nothing big.”

“Everything is big when it concerns you, Stark. No trouble, you hear me? I want you back in New York with the rest of the Avengers in forty-eight hours, are we clear?” Fury pressed.

“Yeah, whatever. How come Thor gets to up and leave the dinner table without asking permission?” Tony pursed his lips, stepping through the gates of Stark Mansion.

“Because he’s a God.”

“And I’m not?”

The phone clicked dead – Fury wasn’t going to even dignify that with an answer. Tony grinned a bit, satisfied he could still, after so long, get underneath Nick Fury’s skin the way he did.

“JARVIS, scan the property. Alert me if you run into anything unusual, preferably before you fizzle out again. I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Around eight o’ clock that evening Stark Mansion had another blackout. JARVIS managed to let off a small beep as an alert on one of Tony’s many computers before everything went dark. The billionaire, on the other hand, was fiddling with suit modifications when it happened and managed to hammer his thumb instead of a stubborn sprocket. Letting out a curse into the blackness of his garage, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He whirled around, letting the light from his arc reactor hit nothing but solid darkness. His fingers twitched at his sides, gripping the hammer steadily as his heart thudded loudly in his ears.

_Stark_. A disembodied voice whispered in his brain and his breath hitched. It was familiar, this voice, and something told him _he_ was responsible for what happened the other night. _Drop the primitive tool_. Without hesitation the hammer was dropped, nearly missing his foot and clanging loudly in the dead of silence. Tony blinked furiously, stunned at himself; what power did he have over him?

“Show yourself,” he bravely called out in a firm voice.

From the depths came two piercing eyes Tony remembered briefly from the other night, the same pair that stared into his soul through the reflection of the windows. The emerald orbs shone with some surreal light before a strange blue glow illuminated the figure subtly. Tony recognized the staff and the man – or God rather – holding it but couldn’t find the effort to move. He could make out the stiff, tense form of Loki who nearly blended into the darkness around him.

“So you’re the unusual energy anomaly. Figures, JARVIS isn’t too equip to recognize God signatures yet,” it seemed his mouth was working perfectly, so Tony used that to his advantage. “And what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?”

Loki remained silent and instead leaned to the left to take a step, then another, to circle around Tony in a painfully slow manner. There was the strange feeling of being hunted, a feeling not so unfamiliar but this was different. It made his skin crawl and twitch, made Tony want to scream but he hid the growing fear behind a stone face. He followed Loki’s thin form until he disappeared behind him, the enemy to his back. He ignored the shiver that was playing its way up his spine.

“Does big brother Thor know you’re here?” He was called off to Asgard a few weeks ago and Tony had to wonder if it had anything to do with Loki. “Or daddy dearest? You know I would have stayed in exile instead of coming back down here – Asgard justice system might be better than the shit we pull on Earth.”

“You know _nothing_ of the justice system on Asgard,” Loki’s breath curled around the shell of Tony’s ear, burning with bitter venom. He moved with liquid grace around the brunette, face inches apart. “And you know nothing of my exile.”

He came around on the man’s left, leering with dangerous intent hanging in the unwavering gaze. Tony resisted the urge to fidget, or was that just the unidentifiable stillness that plagued his muscles? Brown eyes locked on with emerald hues as Loki stopped in front of him, both seemingly calculating their next moves carefully.

“I am here to take what is mine,” Loki moved the scepter to the shining arc reactor and tapped it lightly with the pointed tip.

“Going to dance that dance again, huh? Are you at least taking something to enhance your performance?” This was hardly the time for joking, Tony knew that but he was never known for keeping his mouth shut when need-be.

The grip on the mystical golden weapon tightened, pale knuckles fading two shades whiter. “Why do you try my patience when I have taken the extra measure to be so?”

“I’ve been told it’s a gift.”

The God quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side in a quick nod, as if to agree with him. Truth be told, it was something he was fond of even if it grated on his last nerve; not many versed words to match his own.

“But why take the extra measure?” Tony asked, finding it a legitimate question to ask; this was the God of Mischief and not the God of Endless Patience and Mercy.

“I need you alive,” Loki answered in a matter-of-fact tone. He took a step back from the brunette and snapped his fingers, causing the AC/DC T-shirt to flutter off into green dust. “I have use of you.”

It was Tony’s turn to quirk an eyebrow, glancing down at his naked chest, the bare arc reactor, before flicking his attention to the God. Then the chilling voice was in his head again, pleasantly demanding with a soft, almost innocent tone. _Take apart the arc reactor; take apart your heart for me._ Without a hesitant muscle in his body, a hand lifted to his chest and fingers pressed gently into the arc reactor, spinning it counter clockwise.

“Mind letting me in on your little mind trick?” The brunette growled.

He was rewarded with an all-too pleasing grin that split the scarred lips painfully. Loki didn’t seem to care, even when they began to prickle with blood, his eyes following every move the calloused fingers made as they loosened the arc reactor from Tony’s chest.

“An old trick once forgotten in my heated arrogance and weak dependency,” was the verbal, yet cryptic, answer. “Renewed only with a new need for something sweet.”

“Well, I can’t argue with my gooey chocolaty center, can I?” Tony hissed, pulling out the glowing reactor. He turned it over in his hand, and with the free appendage plucked a simple chip from the center. His movement suddenly stopped and Loki took a slow, almost cautious step forward. The brunette let out a frustrated puff of air, resisting the urge to rush the dark-haired male; he wasn’t entirely sure whether or not he was going to enjoy the end game here.

“Your cooperation is most appreciated,” he spoke playfully, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His face held a serious intent that Tony didn’t like.

Removing the chip from his fingers, Loki worked quickly as to not put the man into cardiac arrest. With a vicious grip around the staff in his right hand, his wounded lips moved with a silent incantation as his left hand pinched the chip tightly between his now glowing forefinger and thumb. Enchanting objects, it wasn’t something Loki was thoroughly trained in, as it tended to be rather dull in his opinion. He was versed in simple spells; teleport an object there, levitate it there, shroud it from the eyes of others, or change its form into something of equal mass. Childish things, really. Loki had searched in places he never wished to dwell upon in thought, hid himself like the coward he hated to steal the books from the library of Asgard, and used his undeniable wit and cleverness to find this strenuous but inevitably successful incantation. If what Tony had told him last night was thorough enough, if what he hypothesized was correct, the enchantment surging through him into the little chip would give him power over Anthony Stark’s very heart. Different from when he stole over Agent Barton’s mind, where the power of the Tesseract enhanced everything he was, but he didn’t need an enhanced soldier. He needed Stark, partner in crime for amusement, for chaos, for mischief and a brief sense of something else Loki refused to put a word to.

By the time Loki’s quiet mumbling had ceased, Tony’s breathing was shallow and clipped, brown eyes widening at the sight before him as the light from the God’s fingers faded and his chip held a green glow. With care, the lithe digits pressed the enchanted object back into the arc reactor and gingerly took it into his own hand, settling it back into Tony’s chest. When it clicked into place, the brunette let out a gasp and scrunched his eyes tightly as if he were fighting back a biting pain. Loki watched with a stoic expression, though his eyes glittered with interest as he waited for the results.

It was cold, as if Loki had pressed an iceberg into his chest instead of the arc reactor. The feeling blossomed outward from his chest, infecting him with some invisible ice traveling through his veins. It prickled at his fingertips, made his toes curl underneath his shoes, caused his muscles to twitch underneath his flesh. A rushing winter breeze filled him, wiped away his fear, his doubt, his freewill and replaced them with something bigger; truth. Undeniable obedience and loyalty washed over him of a would-be and should-be king standing inches from Tony now, a curiously pleased smile working its way onto the God’s features. And then the bitter ice was gone, his heart settled and his muscles relaxed so that his once stiff stance looked wholly subdued now. Brown eyes flickered upward, and as they did a small flash of pale green enveloped them, staring down Loki calmly.

“How do you feel, Stark?” The God tried with a tilt of his head.

The man blinked a moment before quirking his lip upward in an all-knowing smirk, leaning his weight to one side. “Never better, sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

The glow of the evening moon touched its peak and dimly brightened the midnight sky. The absence of clouds allowed the stars to shine and form their creative sky drawings. The winged horse Pegasus flew through the night sky as Orion drew back his bow, the stubborn Taurus grunting above him. Andromeda twinkled as if still furiously boasting about Cassiopeia’s beauty to the Gods and beyond. It was dull, Loki noted, being unable to see the cosmos, the endless stream of stars and nebulas swimming in the vacuum of space, colors bleeding and swirling into abstract fashions. If he missed anything from Asgard, it would be the night sky and how it filled him with wonder and curiosity of what laid beyond them all. The thought was bitter; nothing but dark, cold arms sat beyond the beauty of the cosmos, waiting to embrace lost ones who fell from an abysmal life of lies.

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand so close to the windows, sir,” Tony’s voice filtered into the living room, footsteps heading to the bar. “Fury likes to keep his eye on the problem child.”

His lips twitched slightly in an effort to grin, but his focus was elsewhere. Loki had all but drained himself dry trying to enchant that blasted little chip, but he couldn’t complain. Tony Stark belonged to him now and _oh_ what fun he would have once his power returned to him. Squeezing his fist around the staff in his right hand he turned to face the billionaire at the counter, pouring himself a glass of scotch. Tony looked up, a quick flash of pale green to tree bark brown, and silently offered the God a glass of his own with a tilt of the bottle of alcohol. Loki shook his head.

“I don’t think I ever got you that drink though,” he pressed, despite closing the cap on the bottle.

That brought a quiet chuckle from the God’s throat. “You did not. You were compelled to silence me with your metal contraption.”

Tony half shrugged, as if that counted as some form of an apology. Rounding the bar’s counter, he sauntered off to the lounge in the middle of the room, eyes never leaving the vaguely outlined God at the windows. Motioning to the couches with his drink he suggested, “You know you _are_ welcome to sit, sir.”

Loki didn’t think hearing _sir_ out of the other’s mouth was ever going to tire. With slow steps he made his way to the couch opposite the one Stark had claimed with an over-exaggerated flop, careful though as to not spill the precious liquid in his glass. As he neared the plush piece of furniture, he stumbled slightly and reached out to grip the couch’s spine to keep himself on two feet. Simultaneously there was a quick movement to his right and Loki peered up from between his bangs to see Tony out of his seat and leaning halfway over the coffee table, alcohol now forgotten on the cushions as both arms were outstretched to him.

“Are you alright?” the brunette questioned, voice hinted with concern.

“…Fine,” Loki breathed, sliding onto the couch.

Tony inched back slowly, plopping himself down once the God was comfortably seated across from him. The dim moonlight from outside played upon the porcelain skin of Loki’s face and for the first time since their meeting on the beach to nowhere land the man could see his features. Taut, fatigued, lacking the life and arrogance it once held when they talked in Stark Tower. He looked similar to that of the video footage he watched when he broke into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters, except for one detail. His lips, pressed into a thin line now as Tony was sure he was staring, were deeply chapped, almost scarred in painfully dark vertical lines that stretched beyond to his flesh above and below his lips. A few looked to be dried with blood from earlier.

“What happened to your lips?” he asked, sipping lightly from his cup.

Loki turned his head to the windows again, staring out at the boring landscape of ocean and night sky. “You are on a need to know basis, Stark. What you need to know I will tell you, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” And Tony didn’t bring up the topic again. “So what exactly do I need to know?”

He noted the slight sass in his tone, but Loki ignored it – it _was_ Stark after all. “Once my power returns to me, you and I will depart to a well-known city on Midgard.”

“And do what?” Impatient as always, despite being enchanted.

Loki lifted a slim, black eyebrow at the man. “What other cause do I have but mischief? Just a bit of fun to catch your precious Avengers’ attention.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that. Where to?”

He cocked his head to the side in thought, drumming his fingers idly on the golden shaft of the scepter, before turning his head to grin at Tony. “You choose; you are more familiar with this realm.”

“How sweet of you, first date goes to me,” he teased and took another sip from his drink. Anywhere, huh? Where would they attract the most attention and at the same time be a pain to get to quickly when Fury got the message? Across the seaboard, that much he was sure of, but what was fun and interesting and breakable? “Ever been to Paris, France? Hear it’s rather romantic.”

“Paris.” The word rolled off Loki’s tongue, a curious expression marking his features as he leaned back into the cushions.

“I understand your constant need for attention, I’m a bit of an attention whore myself,” at that the God made a face somewhere between disgust and bewilderment. “And Paris – chock full of people with this giant tower, _oh_ you will love the Eiffel Tower. Hold on a second.”

Tony rummaged around his pocket for his phone, tapping on it rapidly to bring up a picture of the one and only Eiffel Tower situated at the end of Champ de Mars. He slid the translucent device across the coffee table and Loki leaned over to pick it up, studying the iron structure closely.

“What do you think, sir?” The brunette asked, pausing to finish off the rest of his scotch. “Flashy enough for you?”

A wide smirk creased the God’s face, splitting the scars. “This Eiffel Tower, is it important?”

“It’s more of a pop culture thing, but it acts as a radio tower,” the man said before adding, with a darkening grin, “so if you wanted to, say, destroy it, it would be a big deal. And very doable.”

Oh. If that wasn’t the sweetest symphony Loki heard in a long while. The anticipation of their departure was almost overwhelming. To have _the_ man of iron destroy a monument of culture and popularity alongside him; well, it wouldn’t be as glorious as it would having him on his side without the enchantment, but Loki would make do. He placed the phone back onto the coffee table and glanced up at Tony, who was watching him eagerly.

“Rest, Stark – we take our leave at sunrise,” he said, leaning back into the sofa.

“Yes sir.” Obediently, Tony rose from the couch and leaned over the coffee table in a languid motion to grab his phone. Glancing up at Loki, he added, “Will you be joining me?”

It was the classic Stark tone of voice, teasing in every which way, but this time it had an undertow of seriousness that the dark-haired male couldn’t seem to ignore. He flicked his attention from the ever-so-interesting wall to the ever-so-alluring man in front of him. What a curious thing to ask. For a heartbeat, they simply stared at each other in silence before Tony slid forward, covering the table with the length of his body. Loki kept his personal space apart from him, still against the cushions save the interested movement of his fingers tapping against the scepter.

“Because you are welcome to.”

That elicited a twitch at the corner of Loki’s mouth but nothing more, solid mask of stoic expressions clicking itself into place. “Rest,” he repeated firmly.

With an uncharacteristically curt nod, Tony straightened himself out and made his way down the hallway, to his bedroom. As the sound of his footsteps faded in the God’s ears he let out a steady stream of air from between chapped lips. He shut his eyes to the world, hearing the soft click of the bedroom door, and relaxed his tense muscles. Eventually he would take his own advice and rest himself.

Morning arrived much too quickly with the sun’s heated glow spilling in through the windows, splaying lightly on Loki’s face. It hardly bothered him, if anything it was a welcomed feeling of warmth after spending his dark time in exile. His skin looked startlingly pale underneath the light, the scars splitting his lips were angry and red, and his jaws were hollowed and taut against his bones. Fingers twitched and fidgeted in his sleep, eyebrows furrowed and creased his forehead, his entire body ceasing to relax even while in the company of an ally. Footsteps padded around him in an effort to stay silent, but sneaking up on Loki was a hard earned skill – Ms. Romanov knew this well. Slowly, emerald hues slid open and he caught the man of iron pacing slowly around the couch opposite the one he’d fallen asleep on. He held a mug of what he presumed was coffee in both hands, pausing every several steps to take a quick sip before continuing his unentertaining path. Restless maybe, or some sort of protective nature brought on by the enchantment. Whatever it is, it was beginning to grate on Loki’s nerves.

“Be still,” he growled and Tony turned his attention directly at the God, but didn’t cease his movements. The action reminded him of a dog eager for his master. The green flecks reflecting in the brunette’s eyes reminded him it was only a trick.

“Good morning to you too, princess,” the billionaire raises his eyebrows at the other with a shit eating smirk before he dipped his face into the coffee mug. After a long sip of something Pepper clearly bought – something sweet and warm – he added, “How are you feeling?”

Loki blinked slowly and raised himself from the uncomfortable position he had slipped in to. There was a nasty crick in his neck that was fixed with a quick twitch of his head, his spine crackled and his shoulders popped as he stretched beneath the leather, and one foot was infuriatingly numb. That aside, a familiar itch of power ran through him; not at full juice just yet but enough to blow a hole into the peacefully churning world of mortals.

“Marvelous,” he mused, turning his gaze to the window. One by one the stars faded away, too dim to outshine the sun’s glaring rays that skimmed the horizon. “Are you ready to depart?”

“Yes sir.” Finally, Tony discontinued his pacing and stopped between the coffee table and couch. “I’ll get my suit.”

Setting the mug down on the coffee table next to the discarded glass of scotch from the night before, he marched down to the garage. The Mark VII was bypassed as it had been used a few nights ago during battle, not to mention the nostalgic memory of Loki throwing him out the window only to be saved by his not yet tested machinery. The Mark VI, however, was in perfect condition and fit Tony’s weaponry needs – the laser mounted on his hands would do wonders to the Eiffel Tower’s structure.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

While the sun was just peeking over California’s horizon, France was in the middle of having a late lunch. A sweet breeze settled through Champ de Mars, rustling the bushels of trees. It twisted upwards with a quick gust, the smell of ozone lining the air, and Loki Laufeyson was standing on the very top of the tallest structure in France. The cool wind settled again, keeping the air at a pleasant sixty degrees, and the mere mortals below him remained ignorant to the God who literally stood above them. He wore his battle garments, golden armor shimmering in the sun’s gaze with the scepter held tightly in his right hand. The padded armor hid the way his cloak hung loosely around his limps where it once hugged over the leather, and his horned helmet covered the disgruntled hair and sunken cheeks. Thin lips pressed together as he mentally mused over his plan once more, chancing a glance down the 1,050-foot drop. There were people, ants, squirming about the base of the tower; others were looking down over the railings on the first two floors. Tourists and locals alike chatted with one another over lunch, walked down the columns of trees lining Champ de Mars, looked out fondly at the river Seine; so peaceful. Loki chuckled lowly in his throat, a terribly dark grin beginning to form.

In a quiet glimmer the God was gone from the top of the tower and in a chorus of fearful screams reappeared on the second level. People scattered to the lift in a chaotic frenzy but Loki held out his staff, the end of which was glowing an iridescent blue, and in a forced motion shot a flare of magic through the crowd, hitting and destroying the elevator. The remains slid down the shaft to the first floor and crashed at the bottom. Attention within the vicinity of the Eiffel Tower was now Loki’s and he reveled in it as he shimmered down Champ de Mars to light the trees in a beautiful display of fire and destruction.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

“Sir,” Maria Hill radioed in to Director Fury, her voice distorted by mild interference. “We have a situation.”

“Go ahead.” Ten to one it was Stark but Fury treated it as he would any situation.

There was a slight pause before Maria continued, her voice tinted with uncertainty, “We have unconfirmed sightings of a one Loki Laufeyson in Paris, France.”

Fury would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised; Thor had assured them – albeit solemnly – that his brother was in a rather permanent exile. “Excuse me?”

“We are trying to get immediate confirmation – ”

“Get Steve Rogers on the line, _now_.”

“Yes sir.”

This wasn’t something he wanted to wait on, not if this was _the_ God of Mischief. If he was out and Thor wasn’t here, this called for immediate action – false alarm or not. It wasn’t hard to get Captain America on the line either, he picked up on the second ring.

“Good morning, Director,” the ever-so polite voice sounded wide-awake and ready. One had to wonder if he had been watching the news as the current fiasco in Paris was breaking the news stations and fast.

“Rogers, I need your team to assemble _immediately_.”

There was what sounded like Clint Barton in the background swearing at something and Natasha barking orders to someone. It seemed Stark Tower was already in a bustle.

“Already on it, sir,” Steve confirmed and hung the device up to continue preparing for departure. “Clint, let’s go!”

Hawkeye fumbled with his vest as he shot daggers at the television screen as Alex Wagner talked over the broadcast footage of Loki setting fire to Champ de Mars. “I thought Thor said he had this little shit under control!”

“Barton!” Natasha shouted from the elevator. His name on her tongue was poisonously impatient.

He growled, but bit his tongue. The quicker they flew over to Paris the quicker he could take the bastard down. Clint slung the quiver of arrows over his shoulder, his bow and jogged into the elevator with Black Widow, Captain America, and Bruce Banner… Banner?

“Um, Doc, you’re comin’?” The archer questioned.

“As a last resort. I don’t need France angry at me for doing more collateral damage than Loki,” Bruce shrugged, looking calmer than anyone in the lift despite his “Other Guy”. “Has anyone been able to get a hold of Tony?”

“JARVIS, what’s Stark’s status?” Steve asked, awkwardly. Even after a year of living in Stark Tower, talking to nothing but air was still weird.

“ _I lost all communicate with Mr. Stark around eight o’ clock yesterday evening after I picked up an unfamiliar energy signal.”_

Silence in the lift before Natasha turned to Steve. “Should we assume that the energy signal was Loki?”

“Why would he take Tony as a hostage?” Clint said, half teasing.

“Box of cats…” Bruce mumbled more to himself than anyone else.

“We don’t have any way of contacting Thor either,” the Captain pressed his lips together, perplexed. “JARVIS, keep trying to radio in Tony.”

“ _Yes sir_.”

“Right now we need to worry about the civilians – if Tony has been taken I’m sure he can handle himself.” For all the confidence Steve put into his words, he still fidgeted uncomfortably as his stomach churned. Of all the irresponsible things that _idiot_ could have done, taking on a God by himself had to be in the top ten.

The flight from Manhattan to Paris using S.H.I.E.L.D.’s plane took a grueling hour and a half, which by airline standards was an impossible luxury for them. Even with the large chunk of time in between Loki’s appearance and the Avenger’s entrance above the Eiffel Tower the only damage that could be accounted for were the burning trees. For Loki, that was docile, and Steve didn’t overlook that.

“Careful,” the Captain warned. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“This is Loki we’re talking about,” Clint huffed as he stretched the string of his bow. “I’d be worried if you didn’t have a bad feeling.”

“I have a visual on Loki at base of the Eiffel Tower,” Natasha called out from the co-pilot cockpit. “As well as about two dozen civilians stuck in the tower.”

“I’ll distract him, you get the hostages,” Steve ordered to Hawkeye, who seem mildly disappointed he wasn’t doing the distracting. He nodded regardless. “Banner, we’ll call if we need you.”

Bruce gave him a quiet thumbs up before wringing his hands together in his lap. The Other Guy was getting antsy, but he swallowed the feeling down.

Natasha lowered the plane down as close to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower as she could, opening the back hatch for Steve and Clint. The roar of the engines and sudden gusts of wind yanked the God’s attention away from the burning park. The maniacal look in his eyes brightened at the sight of the Avengers – finally, it was rude to keep him waiting. He stalked towards the tower, watching as the red, white and blue launched himself from the back of the plane and rolled to a graceful stop. Hawkeye followed, leaping a little less than gracefully to the railing. Captain America sprinted towards the opposing railing, throwing his arm back in the process and as he vaulted over the rail he swung forward, letting loose his shield. Loki twisted out of its projected direction, turning at the waist as his left hand began to glow with magic. He threw his arm forward, an underhanded toss, and shot at Steve. The mortal rolled forward, grazing the magic with his back, and grabbed his shield up from the ground just in time to ricochet another ball of magic.

“Where’s Tony?” The Captain shouted, throwing a punch at Loki. He dodged it gracefully only to be backhanded in the gut with the man’s shield.

“Oh, the man of iron will arrive shortly,” Loki huffed, a cocky grin smeared across his face.

“What?” Steve couldn’t help the confused pause and if gave the God an opening to cut a gash across his cheek, through the headgear. He faltered backwards a bit, raising his shield to push back another jab from the staff.

“Captain!” Natasha was shouting over the intercom, but the rest was distorted as the man dodged a flying chunk of ice and flung his shield at Loki. It hit him, dropping him to the ground on his back with an empty gasp. Steve lunged at him but found himself with a chest full of boots as the other kicked him back. Loki was on his feet in a second, Rogers close behind as he gathered his shield; both ready to strike one another until Natasha repeated herself. “Captain! Stark is here!”

As soon as the words hit Steve’s ears, there was the familiar sound of rocket boosters closing in, the sight of the shooting star in the middle of the afternoon and the streak of gold and red slamming into the pavement between the two men. The cement cracked beneath him with the impact, one knee and hand to the ground to steady his balance. His glowing rectangular eyes were staring up at Loki, Steve to his back, and while his sensors showed the God before him as a target his crouch lowered into a bow.

“Sorry I’m late,” Tony spoke over his speakers.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re here now,” Steve rolled his shoulders back, giving Loki an all-too cocky look as he raised his shield. Loki returned it with his own dark smirk and the mortal couldn’t fight the shiver that crawled up his spine.

In that moment, Iron Man stood up from his kneeling position and half turned around to look at Captain America. “I wasn’t talking to you, Steve.”

The repulsor blast hit the vibranium disc hard enough to send the good old boy from Brooklyn back several feel and skidding into the grass, although it wasn’t just the lack of air reaching his lungs that caused him to stay on the ground for longer than necessary. Did Tony just _attack_ him? He could hear Black Widow grinding out something but the ringing in his ears was too loud. Clint was shouting too, swearing mostly but confirming that the Eiffel Tower was clear of all civilians.

“Are you alright?” Tony flicked his attention back to Loki, who was eyeing him with greedy intentions. This was oh _so very_ sweet.

“The tower, Stark,” he growled, nodding in its general direction. “Destroy it.”

With a curt nod the man of iron shot off into the sky, soaring towards the Eiffel Tower. Hawkeye spotted him fly by and hesitated for an arrow; was it all right to shoot him down? The thought was one second too long and Tony was already firing missiles at him.

“Steve, orders?” Clint asked, fingers already twitching a pattern on his bow to arm the next arrow.

There was a pause as the Captain swung his body around to kick Loki in the side, and while it hit its target the God also caught the leg and flipped them both to the ground.

“Knock… knock him out!” He wheezed, clamoring to his feet.

The agent strung his bow, armed himself steadily and let the red laser follow a few inches ahead of the Iron Man’s projected path. He waited for the tower to stop vibrating from the impact of the missiles to get a clean shot of the knee joints but by the time the shot was clear, Tony was underneath him and out of sight.

“Barton, get out of there!” Natasha’s static order came over the intercom. “They are – ”

She cut off as Tony launched a missile at the plane with the retort, “Don’t spoil the surprise, darling.”

An engine blew out and the aircraft began to lose altitude and control; somewhere underneath the suit Tony was smiling about it too. Placing himself in the middle of four iron legs, he raised his arms up with closed fists to engage the one-time laser. It had once cut through drones produced by a rivaling company like a hot knife through butter; cutting down the Eiffel Tower would be like tearing tissue paper. The lasers lit up and Tony spun around once, twice, and the lasers cut off at the third go around but it was enough to create an unstable balance. It groaned and wobbled, unsure of which way it wanted to fall but Iron Man wasn’t sticking around to wait for it to decide. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was hanging on to the railing with a white knuckled grip, attempting to find a safe way down. The grapple he’d used to get the civilians out of the tower was on the opposite side and once Clint got a stable footing on the floor he booked. He was halfway there when Stark appeared to his right and shot a repulsor blast at the tower, leaning it towards Champ de Mars. The Eiffel Tower twitched violently in the pushed direction and Clint lost his footing, stumbled and toppled to the railing. He hit it with his back with a solid _thud_ before rolling off and out of the tower. There was the sound of rushing air past his ears, the tower whining as it began to fall, and an incredible roar before his velocity shifted from vertical to horizontal. A pair of inhumanly strong green arms caught Hawkeye and Clint had never been happier to see the Other Guy.

“Natasha?” The archer called into the intercom as the Hulk landed with a thundering boom.

“We’re alright,” came the breathy response. “We’re alright.”

It seemed they were desperate for their last resort, not like Clint could blame Bruce what with Tony throwing them for a fucking loop and a half. Hawkeye spotted the smoke rising a few yards away, the S.H.I.E.L.D. issued plane, and when Hulk set him down he sprinted off in that direction. Steve and the Other Guy could handle this for a while.

Captain America and the God of Mischief were still dancing around Champ de Mars, twisting through the dying flames and ash as the Eiffel Tower descended behind them. It screamed against the pavement, kicking up the remains of burnt leaves and bark. The wind whipped around them, the debris catching in Steve’s eyes and throat leaving his side open for Loki to stick him. The God lunged forward in an offensive stance, ready for the kill, but a familiar roar came up behind him causing his motion to cease. Banner was an unexpected hand to play and Loki sneered as he turned his head over his shoulder to get an eyeful of the beast. Sandwiched between the super soldier and the monster – not ideal.

Tony’s HUD registered two friendlies and an enemy in the distance as he admired the destruction. With a burst of speed he was off in their direction, one hand out to shoot a repulsor at Steve and the Hulk. It blew the Captain back for the umpteenth time that afternoon while the beast turned to shout wordlessly at his once comrade. Another shot, to the face, if only to distract him for the moment he needed to grab Loki and fly them out of there. By the time Hulk’s focus cleared the billionaire was a shining dot in the sky.

“What the _fuck_ just happened?” Clint spat over the radio.

“You’ve stolen the words right out of my mouth, Barton.” The steely voice of Fury rang out but no one had a viable answer.

That wasn’t completely true, Steve had an idea but voicing it proved difficult. The words caught in his throat as he rolled onto his stomach to pull himself up, but as Fury demanded an answer for the second time, he solemnly replied, “Tony has been compromised.”


	4. Chapter 4

Flying had never been a luxury nor a pleasure for the God of Mischief, although it might’ve had something to do with the fact that Thor was, up until a few moments ago, the only one to roughly drag him through the air. Never mind the fact that he could simply _teleport_ to his destination or that the dolt could grab him around the waist or at his wrist and not the neck. Tony Stark had made the right call, however, by flying them out of the catastrophe that was Paris, France. The metal man held the God around the waist, chest flush against each other so Loki could look over the other’s shoulder. The scene they were leaving behind was beautiful, not exactly a masterpiece but it felt refreshing after a year of exile. It was entirely worth the look on the Captain’s face when Tony shot him, the rage in the beast’s eyes, and Loki could only imagine the death threats from the two assassins. A smile crept onto his face, splitting wide to crinkle the skin near his eyes while laughter bubbled in his throat. It tore from him almost forcefully, dry but full of more life than he had heard in ages. Inside the helmet, Tony was grinning from ear to ear, satisfied with the outcome of the afternoon’s activities.

“Sir,” he spoke above the maniacal laughter. “The lasers really knocked the juice out of this puppy, I won’t be able to fly us all the way home. Mind zapping us someplace?”

When his voice died down to almost a low giggle, Loki tilted his head to give the man a sideways look. They couldn’t go back to the beach house in Malibu; it would be the first place S.H.I.E.L.D. would look for them. Stark Tower was a definite no-go and he was unaware of any other homes Tony just happened to of built while he was away. If he did, Loki knew nothing of them and instead took them to his own hideout, leaving nothing behind but a glimmer of green dust in the setting sun.

Teleporting proved an uncomfortable ride for the man of iron. There was a feeling of weightlessness and feeling as if the world was riding on his shoulders, of intense speed and painful slow motion before coming to an abrupt, yet oddly steady stop at their destination. Tony opened up the front hatch of his helmet to view his surroundings outside the HUD and was shocked to find a rather foreign interior staring back at him. They had landed in, what he assumed to be, a living room of someone’s house. To his left was a brick fireplace surrounded by dark wood furniture, the cushions draped with fur blankets. Opposite the front door, which sat behind the men, was some form of dining room with a long table fit for a dozen people and an elaborate golden candelabra hanging above it. Two sets of stairs were to their right; stone steps led down into what could only be presumed was the basement and wooden stairs leading up to the second floor. The room was small, despite the amount of people the dinner table could hold, and empty but something told him Loki didn’t have a lot of guests to entertain for decorations to matter.

“You may release me now, Stark.” It was more of a suggestion than a demand so Tony didn’t obey immediately.

“Nice bachelor pad you’ve got here,” Tony said, staring up at the ceiling. There was another candelabra above them. He turned his head to the windows on the left and found a light snowfall swirling about outside. “Where are we?”

“Midgard,” Loki answered, purposely vague.

Tony kept his gaze out the window, late afternoon sun washing in, leaving the profile of his helmet to the God. A thin finger from the arm wrapped around his shoulder traced the geometric lines along the jaw. He almost looked to be admiring the creation, or calculating its destruction. With a languid movement of his wrist the metal was gone, leaving Tony in his T-shirt, black leggings, and rubber boots. In the same hand motion his own armor disappeared in a shimmer of dim light, as well as his extraneous amounts of clothing, and instead dressed himself in a simple dark green cloth tunic to top his black leather pants. Tony merely glanced down and mentally noted how incredibly awesome and convenient magic was.

“Are we at the North Pole?” He guessed. “Please tell me we haven’t been mistaking you for Santa Claus.”

“I do not understand that reference,” the other said, glancing out the window for a moment only to redirect his attention back to Tony’s jawline. His finger was back to tracing again, but instead of metal there was flesh and the dark stubble. “Tell me, how does it feel to have turned against your friends?”

“Pretty stress relieving to tell you the truth,” he turned his head to look up at Loki as he answered. “Steve can be such a mother hen, nagging – and God, _such_ a teacher’s pet to Fury. Clint can be a cocky little asshole; can you believe he tried to shoot me down? I bet he was pissed he didn’t get a piece of you though. I’m sure Natasha is writing out a plan in Russian on how to kill me in my sleep, and while I don’t have a problem with Bruce – I can’t even begin to tell you about the ‘Other Guy’. Collateral damage up the wazoo, it’s ridiculous. Then there’s Thor – ”

Loki placed a finger on the man’s lips, silencing him. “Enough,” and he slid away from Tony to walk towards the sofa. “If they grate on you so much, why put up with them?”

“Because they’re family,” Tony shrugged, following in small footsteps behind the God. “I mean we pretty much earn the World’s Most Dysfunctional Family Award, but they’re family.”

“Yet they cause you displeasure.”

“That’s what family is suppose to do – drive you up the wall.”

Loki paused his movements at this and quirked his head to the side as if to quietly agree. While he was no Odinson, he was of Asgard, and he did have an adopted family so to speak. The only one who didn’t drive him insane was Frigga, but he had always been more of a mommy’s boy – not that he would verbally admit to that.

“And if I asked you to destroy them?”

The question hung in the air, a little too long, but eventually Tony answered with, “Yeah, if you asked. I would prefer you didn’t.”

The God spun around at that, eyes narrowing. “And what would you have me do with them?”

“Show them what you’ve shown me,” the brunette tapped at the arc reactor. “They’ve got heart, they deserve this freedom – hell, one of them is actually _walking_ freedom. Besides, how awesome would it feel to have the Avengers at your call?”

Perhaps, but… “That is not the point I am trying to make.”

It was Tony’s turn to tilt his head. “What _is_ the point then?”

“My point,” Loki hissed, pressing a hand to the man’s chest as he closed the distance between them. His fingers danced along the edges of the arc reactor through the shirt, short nails playing against the sensitive skin. “Is to show your realm, your _precious_ Avengers, how easy it is to drag you down to my level.”

“Why me?” He asked as if he wasn’t worthy of being chosen. The hand at his chest pushed him back so his calves caught on the couch and he fell onto the cushions, back sinking into the fur blanket draped along the furniture’s spine.

The dark-haired male moved a knee up onto the couch, resting it against Tony’s outer thigh. As he hovered over the man, he asked, “Do you consider yourself a hero, Mr. Stark?”

“No,” came the simple reply. “But I guess it depends on your definition of a hero. Years in the business of manufacturing weapons, being called the Merchant of Death – doesn’t constitute being a hero to me. Sure, I’ve turned over a new leaf, become Iron Man, shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries, saved a bunch of people but I’m still self-destructive and not the best role model for kids.”

“Yet you try so hard to be the hero,” Loki faked a perplexed look. “Why? They will _never_ accept you. The Captain is too good for you, too righteous. Thor? He thinks you are a liability, a simple mortal without your metal. The agents feel as if you hold them back, and the beast? Does that monster truly know friend from foe? No, Stark, they see you as you see yourself – a self-destructive, self-loathing, narcissist.”

Tony didn’t even bat an eyelash at the truth being spat before him, or was Loki just that good of a liar? The enchantment was making his judgment about as clear as mud. “And what do you see me as, sir?”

“The same, but,” he paused to lean down close enough so that their noses were practically touching. “That is what makes you perfect. I do not wish to take the best Midgard has to offer and twist them, I want to take one who is already twisted by fate.”

Tony had the unbelievable urge to lick between the splitting gap in the middle of Loki’s lips. Instead he made an uncomfortable grunt in the back of his throat when Loki pushed against his arc reactor, using the man as balance to swing his other leg onto the couch.

“What about your broth – ” the word was cut short as the pale hand on his chest slid up to wrap loosely around his neck; a silent threat. Time to rephrase. “What about Thor?”

“What of him?”

“Wouldn’t it be worth while to get the golden boy down to your level?”

Loki frowned and trailed his fingers up the side of the other’s neck, causing him to shiver. He scratched lightly at the beard before taking the male’s lower lip between his forefinger and thumb. “You were not listening. I do not want the best, I do not want the favored, I want the destructive and reckless, I want the one who does not believe in his worth and pretends to be something he is not,” he ghosted his lips against his jawline and finished, “I want _you_ , Stark.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tony flicked his tongue across the smooth surface of the thumb running along his lip, leading it in with his wet appendage to nibble on it lightly. Loki hummed at the quiet response, returning it with a chapped kiss to the shell of his ear. Experimentally, the brunette bit down harder and the thumb curled against his tongue, hooked along his bottom row of teeth and pulled. Loki leaned back on his haunches, a low laugh resonating in his throat.

“Calm your libido, I was being metaphorical.”

“Tease,” Tony pouted as the thumb was removed from his mouth, glazing his lower lip in saliva. “You could have fooled me.”

Loki cocked his head to the side, an amused smirk playing on his features. He pinched the lower lip between his fingers again. “Do you desire me, Stark?”

“Well, yeah,” he answered matter-of-factly. Giving the God a once over with his eyes he added, “I mean you aren’t exactly lacking in the beauty department. Your personality could use a bit of work, unless throwing people out windows is customary on your planet? In which case, I guess I should be honored.”

“You should feel honored that I have taken such an interest in you and that you still live.” He had a point and Tony shrugged in agreement. It was then Loki slid off the man’s lap, leaving the brunette on the couch, sinking in the plush cushions and fur. He twisted his left wrist in the direction of the fireplace and the wood inside sparked with life as fire ignited. “I suppose you require nourishment, do you not?”

It hadn’t occurred to him, or rather Loki chose to ignore it, that Tony was only human and eventually his body would need more than just sleep. With another small flick of his hand the dining table was full of silver platters of food fit for an Asgardian king. A whole wild boar sat in the middle, roasted to crispy perfection garnished with healthy green leaves and baby tomatoes. The midsection had been flayed and hindquarters separated for easier access to the meat. Around the main platter sat assortments of fruit bowls piled high with familiar delicacies, a few foreign to the mortal. There were smaller bowls, some filled with warm cheese and others with colored creams. Steaming biscuits were stacked in pyramids; pastries and sweet rolls lined the outer ring of the buffet, and at each empty chair sat a jewel-encrusted goblet filled with the sweetest of mead. Tony looked over the back of the couch, eyes raking over the table top; he hadn’t noticed how hungry he actually was until the smell of cooked pork and sweet breads filled the air. He pushed himself up and made his way to the table, admiring the instantaneous meal that Loki had presented him.

“How do you do this?” The brunette emphasized his question with a wave of his own hand. “You’re like a Jedi or – ah, never mind. Earth reference.”

“Magic,” Loki lifted an eyebrow, as if the answer was obvious. It was, but Tony was looking for specifics.

“Well how does it work?” Trying to decipher and dissect things he didn’t understand, as always. His hand went for the alcohol, which wasn’t at all surprising.

The question kept Loki silent for a handful of minutes. No one had ever asked him _how_ he materialized objects or teleported or duplicated himself or shape-shifted; people usually just took it for granted that he had the ability to do it. A useful token when need-be, disgraceful the rest of the time. He glowered at the empty chair across the table, lips pressed together in a thin line as his jaw clenched. Tony sipped idly at the warm mead, watching Loki intently at the other end of the table.

“It depends,” he said quietly, almost cautiously. He outstretched his hand across the table, twitched his fingers, and the goblet in Tony’s grasp floated away with ease into Loki’s. “This takes concentration of the mind.” Pausing, the cup disappeared and reappeared on the table in front of Tony. “That is a form of manipulation, similar to when I teleport or create objects.”

“Molecular manipulation?” The billionaire quirked his head to the side, running a finger around the rim of the goblet.

“If that is what you call it on your realm,” Loki’s voice was behind him now and Tony whirled around to see the God standing with his arms crossed at his chest, leaning to one side. His eyes swiveled back to the end of the table where the other Loki still stood, an amused smirk playing across his features. “That is an illusion. It is Thor’s least favorite trick.”

The second Loki fizzled out, leaving just the one at the table again. Tony turned back around to face him slowly. He tapped a finger on the arc reactor and asked, “And this?”

“An enchantment,” he curled his fingers around an apple, not one from Idunn but the color was of autumn yellow, and produced a dagger to carve a wedge from it. “I believe the Enchantress Amora has made herself known to your realm, has she not? To her, the spells weave naturally but I do not possess that ability.”

Tony made a face. They had run into Amora more than enough times for her to be on the brunette’s list of most outstandingly irritating villains. “She didn’t help you, did she?”

Loki stiffened his movements and gave the man a stone-faced glare. Stupid question, and it wasn’t justified with an answer. “I had to search for that spell, in places your mind could not even begin to fathom.” He put his attention back on the apple, tension gone from his face. “It is different than what I did to Agent Barton, this is not the power of the Tesseract.”

The brunette reached for a biscuit, something familiar and light, and picked pieces off to pop into his mouth. He remembered Clint talking about when Loki had played with his mind, the cold mind-numbing submission of it all. An out of body experience is what he compared it to, being there but not completely. It was impossible to fight because thoughts began to pour in, thoughts that weren’t his own, of untold truths and subjugation, where the contradiction of freeing himself from freedom made all the sense in the world. But he was strong, oh so strong, and quicker than ever, all traits and attributes rising above anything he could ever imagine. The enchantment on Tony was not the work of the Tesseract by any means. He was definitely all there, snarky personality, jokes and all, and while he didn’t feel any stronger or agile there was something else. The feeling of limitless possibilities; Loki was in the back of his mind, voice ever soothing velvet and cool breath that spoke to him but it wasn’t demanding, it didn’t hold him back. He could have it all, everything and nothing he’d ever dreamed of, didn’t know he wanted, if only to promise his undying loyalty to him, he who should and will be king. It wasn’t hard, really, but then again that could’ve been the enchantment speaking.

In the background, the fire crackled wildly to fill the silence that had befallen the room. Tony looked up from his half eaten biscuit to find that the God had taken a seat at the head of the table, four chairs away. His feet moved unconsciously towards him, eyeing the way he nibbled on the newly cut apple wedge. Amusingly, the philanthropist compared their eating habits – poor, by the average person’s standards, and light, as if food was just some uninteresting necessity. In fact, now that he thought about it, the two of them had quite a bit in common.

Loki looked up as the shuffling feet stopped near the chair he’d taken up, chewing the piece of apple in bored jaw movements. Tony took a seat on the table’s top, eyes now locked with emeralds. His hand outstretched slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, to trace his fingers against the hollowed features on the other’s cheek. The thumb brushed under a bruised eye as his middle finger curled underneath the shell of his ear. Calloused fingers curved underneath his jaw, the muscles moving slowly as he ate, and Tony’s thumb came to rest just at the corner of the male’s mouth. Loki shied away from the touch at his mouth, eyes narrowed in a silent warning and the hand slid away.

“So what are we gonna do next, sir?”

Thin lips quirked upwards into a tight smile, parting to speak, “Make a list of famous Midgardian cities.”

Tony grinned, chuckling as he chewed on the rest of his bread. “Tear the world apart, huh? How romantic.”


	5. Chapter 5

The conference room aboard the Helicarrier was uncomfortably quiet as the remaining Avengers waited for Director Fury’s debriefing. Clint nursed a bag of ice on the left side of his torso, relieving the bruising pain from his fall on the tower. He sat next to Natasha who sported minor cuts on her forehead; she was staring intently at Steve across the table. As per usual, the Captain didn’t let the team see the frustrating unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He rolled his shoulders back slowly and glanced to the empty seat next to him – Tony’s. Bruce was staring at it too.

“Tony Flew in from the Northeast and landed between Loki and I. Then he turned and shot his repulsor blast at me.”

_I wasn’t talking to you, Steve._ The words still stung.

“We should consider him a hostile,” Clint growled, shifting gingerly in his seat. “He’s working with Loki.”

“He’s probably under the same spell he put you under, Clint,” Bruce pointed out but Natasha shook her head.

“We’ve heard Tony more than once – Loki tried and failed because his arc reactor protected him.”

“Do you really believe Tony would team up with Loki by choice?” Steve interjected harshly.

The Russian spy raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say that. He may not be the most responsible of us but I wouldn’t believe for a moment he would willingly work with Loki. However, if he’s found another way to control Tony, it probably won’t be as easy as knocking him over the head.”

“JARVIS said he can’t locate Tony or the missing Mark VI,” the doctor tapped on the glass table, bringing up the surveillance tapes from Stark Mansion both nights there was interference. “Our best bet is Thor – ”

“And how do you propose we contact Thor?” Fury raised his eyebrows inquisitively, leaning back in his chair. “We can’t always rely on him when an unearthly force threatens us. While he is dealing with his duties in Asgard, _we_ need to deal with our own troubles. I know he told us Loki was under control, but seeing is that Paris, France is now in complete turmoil because of him I think it’s safe to assume we’ve got a real problem. He is the first priority, Stark is second.”

“I don’t think that’s an option,” Bruce glanced at Rogers before leveling his gaze at the director. “When Steve and… the Other Guy surrounded Loki, Tony flew in and protected him.”

“So what is his aim, use Iron Man as some body guard while he blows the world up?” Clint grunted.

“It seems like that now but knowing him there’s probably a bigger picture,” Natasha said and Steve nodded in agreement.

“Whatever he’s planning I think we can all agree that we need to stop him as soon as possible,” the Captain turned to Fury. “We don’t have any leads but we’ll be ready when he strikes again.”

It wasn’t long before the duo reappeared, gracing Europe with their presence again – this time in Rome, Italy. Similar to the incident in Paris, Loki lured the Avengers out with petty tricks and minor destruction along _Piazza del Duomo_ before the strip of crimson and gold zipped the sky. Hawkeye was priority number one as his dead aim from the top of Italy’s biggest baptistery proved an irritating distraction. Meanwhile, Captain America and the Quinjet attempted to take the God of Mischief down. The fiasco ended with the Hulk and Tony on the Leaning Tower of Pisa in an unfortunate repeat of the Eiffel Tower. Afterwards, he and Loki disappeared just as they had before – leaving the Avengers with no leads and two angry countries to deal with. The next day Loki appeared on the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, California, perched precariously on one of the peaks. To alleviate any more collateral damage, Bruce stayed behind leaving the Captain, Hawkeye, and Black Widow to clean this one up. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents managed to evacuate the bridge before the Quinjet flew in. Loki watched carefully, almost too still, as Steve leapt out and rolled to a stop. Hawkeye steadied himself at the mouth of the plane, arrow pulled back and aimed at the God’s head. Only when it released did the team figure out it was a decoy and the arrow shot through the fizzled illusion. Tony flanked them, fired a rocket at the S.H.I.E.L.D. issued aircraft and watched as it spun into the wires holding up the bridge. The day after was Cairo, Egypt – the Pyramids of Giza. While the damage was minimal, Iron Man held off the Hulk and Hawkeye as best he could while Loki transformed the pyramids into cubes. Meanwhile, Steve and Natasha were evacuating the bazaar nearby from the cackling clones of the dark-haired God.

“What the _fuck_ , don’t they take a break?!” Clint shouted as Maria Hill called in another sighting. This time they were in Orlando, Florida – Disney World. “Where the hell is Thor?”

“I don’t know but this is getting a bit out of hand; we can’t keep losing them,” Bruce looked to Fury. “I should sit this one out.”

“No, go, all of you. I want one of them in our Goddamn custody!”

“I’ve got a plan, come on!” Steve called as he ran towards the hangar. “Clint, keep Tony occupied – ”

“Not a problem.”

“ – Natasha and I will focus on the evacuation and Bruce, you get Loki. Wait until Clint has lured Tony away from him before going in.”

“So we’re grabbing the God and not Stark?” Natasha asked, the skepticism high in her voice.

“Preferably. I don’t want an angry God coming back for him. If we can keep him until Thor arrives then he might be able to get him to spill the beans on how to fix Tony.”

Meanwhile, the God of Mischief was taking a stroll through the Magic Kingdom leaving behind a row of crumbling gift shops. Iron Man shot by above him, throwing out a handful of repulsor blasts at the castle in the middle of the park. He corkscrewed around, making a sharp left turn and hovered, watching the horizon for any sign of the Avengers. In the distance, his HUD picked up the Quinjet coming in from the West. The metal man made his way to Loki, landing in front of him with his visor pulled up.

“They’re coming – orders?” Tony asked.

“Keep them busy,” he replied with a cocky smirk. “I wish to destroy this so-called Kingdom of Magic.”

The brunette laughed as his helmet clamped shut; Loki had been most adamant in learning about the “kingdom” when he told him about it. He seemed intrigued at the name but insulted that the magic was fake.

“Yes sir,” Tony said as he flew up and off towards the plane.

Captain America and Black Widow had been dropped off near the back of Fantasy Land, although by that time most of the tourists had been evacuated out the back exits. The plane took off with Hawkeye and Bruce still aboard, flying the two men over the theme park.

“Stay here doctor, I’ll radio in when it’s your turn,” the agent said as he packed his gear. “Be careful.”

“Likewise.”

With a nod to Banner, Clint was out the back hatch and landing on the roof of one of the attractions. Tony had him in his sights, a friendly on his HUD but the missiles were armed and ready. They fired out of his shoulders and a bundle of them headed towards the Quinjet, the rest towards the agent. Clint sprinted across the roof, arming his arrow with an explosive tip as his fingers danced across his bow. As the explosions died down behind him Clint turned around and drew his bow back, took aim and fired – the man of iron shot it down and continued forward with repulsor blasts.

“That’s it, c’mon you cocky son of a bitch,” Clint goaded.

On the ground, Steve and Natasha were crowding groups of people out of the park, checking each ride and show to make sure no one was trapped or left behind. The Russian turned towards the castle as a mighty explosion sounded; one of the towers had crumbled off and was tumbling down into the moat. A window shattered from the south side of the castle and flames burst free. Her eyes wandered to the fight on the rooftops between Barton and Stark. Now seemed a good time as any to unleash the Hulk.

“Dr. Banner – whenever you’re ready,” she called over the intercom before turning her attention back to the frightened tourists.

Loki danced along the furnished balcony, twisting his body around to throw a blast of magic at another tower. All the while he laughed like a one crazed maniac, magic flaring in his emerald hues. Another burst of magic, and then another, and another before the next tower leaned forward and broke apart from the castle. He waited for the crash below but it never came. Curiously, he peered over the edge, just in time to see the cone of the tower fly towards him, breaking through the balcony. Loki lost his footing and slipped, sliding down into an all too familiar green hand. It gripped him around the middle with a vice grip and threw him with a great force into the side of the castle. He flew through the structure into a bedroom and the Hulk tore in after him. A deep growl resonated in his throat as he neared the God, who had skidded into the bedpost, now broken. Loki pushed the rubble off furiously, glaring daggers at the beast. Where in the nine realms was Stark?

Clint was giving the billionaire a run for his money, threading him into Frontier Land and past The Pirates of the Caribbean ride. Arrow after arrow flew with deadly aim, but Tony zipped and twisted and strafed away from each one. Dodging the repulsor blasts and missiles were a little tougher for Clint but he managed. The archer had almost lured his ex-comrade to the Haunted Mansion attraction at the farthest corner of the park when the Hulk let out a vicious roar. Tony whipped his body around; one enemy and one friendly dropped from the Disney castle at an alarming speed.

Loki.

Without a second’s hesitation Tony shot off towards them and Clint swore under his breath – so close. He strung up an arrow with a special tip, held his breath and aimed. It flew straight, whistled through the air and lodged itself between the leg joints, letting out waves of magnetic energy. The HUD fizzled out and the functionality of the suit plummeted, quite literally. Tony fell out of the sky and into the roof of an attraction.

“Stark is down,” Clint radioed. “What’s the status on Loki?”

The Hulk let out an abrupt shout from the middle of the park and Loki fired a single line of magic from his staff at the monster. From behind, Steve sprinted towards the action and threw his shield at the God. It hit him square in the back and Loki snarled, stumbling on his feet to turn around to his new enemy. A repeat of France.

“We’ve almost got him,” Natasha answered, not far behind the Captain.

The Hulk snatched at Loki as his attention directed itself at Rogers, taking him by the legs and swinging him against the concrete. The memory was all too bitter for the dark-haired male. His body snapped against the ground a handful of times before the green beast tossed him towards Steve and Natasha. He rolled, armor and all, and gasped as he came to a strained stop. His vision blurred and his chest heaved shakily, staff forgotten as it had fallen from his grasp. Eyes searched the skies for Stark, the familiar red and gold, the sound of rockets; nothing. He bared his teeth as the man in red, white, and blue stalked up to him, the Russian behind him with the unfortunate pair of cuffs and mouthpiece.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

For the second time, albeit in a long time, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard was in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s custody. Fury was a little less than satisfied with the results – what with half of the Magic Kingdom in ruin, several infuriated foreign countries, and no sign of Stark – but he had asked for one of the two troublemakers to be brought into custody, and that was exactly what happened. If it hadn’t been for the Hulk’s ever-so prominent presence, the capture of Loki might not have even happened, but that didn’t alleviate the tension on the Helicarrier as he was brought into the holding cell. While the armored guards were all but useful in the apprehension of the God, Fury had given Banner permission to change if the situation arose. The doctor seemed rather adamant about keeping the record number of incidents on the Helicarrier to one, but if it arose – and there was no one saying it wouldn’t – he would have to bite the bullet and do it. If only for Tony’s sake.

The mouthpiece and cuffs bound to the God weren’t going to keep him sated forever, despite the dazed expression he tried desperately to hide after being thrown around by the massive beast. Once inside the holding cell, rebuilt and renewed after being discharged with the wrong God in it, Loki was strapped onto a metal slab. Metal bindings were clamped over his wrists, ankles, waist, and chest, bringing him to a T position at an angled slope. Experimentally, Loki struggled against them, noting how weak he felt beneath them. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, followed the metal and glass encasement with his eyes and felt no magic in the air. Stark had been a busy boy putting his technology to irritating use, so even if he could break the bindings, rid himself of the anti-magic technology on his skin, the room would keep him. Natasha came in soon after, cradling a rather large needle in her hand. While she was sure the sedatives were useless in a situation involving a _God_ , it didn’t hurt to try and try they did, shooting him up with enough sedatives to down a herd of elephants. Every precaution was taken; Loki hadn’t come willingly, or it at least seemed that way.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” Fury strolled in, brushing past Agent Romanoff as she exited the glass cylinder. He pulled his hands behind his back, letting out a deep sigh in either relief or stress; no one was entirely sure. “I didn’t think we’d have the pleasure of seeing each other again.”

Loki rolled his head to one side, staring with heavy-lidded eyes at the dark skinned man. He couldn’t retort even if he wanted to, and he did, due to the solid placement of the mouthpiece. His face was littered with several scrapes, a handful of deep gashes, and a swelling bruise around his right cheekbone. It would heal, in time, but the process was slower than he would’ve liked. His sides stung, something was probably broken, and there was a profound pinch in his left leg. He blinked slowly, attempting a narrowed glare, but it was lost in the glaze of his emerald hues. This wasn’t the worst predicament he’d been in, by far the most civil in a long while, but that didn’t change the fact that it wasn’t ideal. Stark was alive, he could feel it like a second heartbeat in his head thrumming softly, but something was most definitely hindering him; he was always quick to protect him. As he and Fury held eye contact, sort of, Loki weighted his options. He could sit here and be cryptic or play the silent game, spin a wheel of lies to throw the group off track and fuck with their minds, but in the end it inevitably came down to one thing. Despite the gag, he managed a tip-lipped grin.

Fury walked over, movements stiff and slow, and unhinged the difficult buckle that held the mouthpiece in place. “Mind telling me what you did to our friend Stark and why he is so tightly wrapped around your finger?”

His lips spread apart to widen the smile, letting loose a low laugh. He pulled his head up high, chin raised, to look down his pointed nose at S.H.I.E.L.D.’s director. “He is mine, now and forever.” His voice waivered but with a hard swallow he continued. “I have shown him the door to his potential.”

While he hadn’t expected a full out confession, Fury didn’t enjoy the cryptic tone the response held. “Mind elaborating?”

The laugh grew louder, Loki spoke in between each burst, “Everything will fall into place soon enough and not by my hand, but his own. He will fall into place; he will fall.” The sedatives sent his mind reeling, the laughter shaking his shoulder, chaffing his wrists against the metal bindings.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that when Thor gets here,” the director’s brows furrowed as he let out another long sigh – stress. He moved to place the mouthpiece back and as he reached for it, Loki snapped his head forward and bit down on his hand. Fury swore, loudly, and pulled back, but not before he backhanded the God. He only laughed louder. The mortal man grabbed the other by the hair, pulled back as if to tear the black strands right out of his head, and slammed the gag across his face, buckling it back into place. “Manners, Mr. Laufeyson, it goes both ways.”

In the conference room, Steve was digging his fingers into the blonde locks and worried at his bottom lip. It didn’t help Loki gave him the creeps but what he was saying about Tony, about falling, it shook him to the bone.

“Steve,” Natasha called his first name after calling his last about half a dozen times. He finally looked up from the camera monitor. “You’ll make your lip bleed, calm down.”

“What do you think the little shit means – Tony’s gonna fall?” Clint leaned back in his chair, propping his legs up on the table. “Kind of puts a hole into the whole human shield theory.”

The room fell silent for a moment before Steve shoved himself out of his chair and walked out. Natasha gave her assassin comrade a look and he mouthed _what_ back at her. The Captain needed to clear his head, calm his mind; he was the captain after all, the leader, and what kind of leader loses his head just because the God of _Lies_ says his best friend is going to fall. Fucking cryptic bullshit, it didn’t mean anything.

“Dr. Banner,” Steve greeted the brunette in the hallway facing the chamber holding Loki. “How are you?”

Bruce shifted his weight from one leg to the next, staring intently at the floor and not the cell. “Fine, I guess. Not entirely enjoying the talk coming out of his mouth though.” He nodded in the God’s direction, but he still didn’t look up. He was antsy, but he couldn’t blame the Other Guy – Tony was a friend, the only one who didn’t treat him like the elephant in the room when they first banded together. Now he was the enemy, according to S.H.I.E.L.D., as he had been compromised but that didn’t sit well with Bruce.

“He’s probably lying,” the blonde huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Buying his time until Thor gets here.”

“Or Tony.” Steve gave the other an inquisitive look. “Think about it. Loki is mind controlling him so if he sends out an S.O.S….”

He hadn’t thought about that. With a frustrated sigh, Rogers pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “So we’ll try to capture him too. Not the easiest task, but maybe in close quarters we’ll have an advantage.”

They both knew that was positive thinking, even for Steve. Close quarters would be a disastrous cluster fuck.

The door slid open and Director Fury walked out stiffly, hands still cradled behind his back. “Captain. Banner.”

“Sir,” Steve replied and Bruce nodded in recognition. “Dr. Banner believes Tony might come for him.”

“Oh I’m counting on it. We don’t know when Thor will arrive, but if he is still knee-deep in Asgardian shit then Stark will get here first. I need you all on your toes, gentlemen – I want him in our custody. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he nodded to the two of them before walking off down the hall, past the handful of checkpoints, and back to the bridge.

The Captain’s brows furrowed deeply, mind reeling for some form of a plan. It would be ideal to have them both but near impossible.

“Can you handle things down here?” Bruce asked. “I think I’ll be more useful and less destructive up top. If Tony does come, I can get the first jump on him.”

“I’ll be fine. Be careful, doctor.”

The brunette offered a half smile and a firm pat on his shoulder before leaving Steve with the caged God. He rolled his shoulders back and lolled his head in a slow circle; his fingers twitched and clenched into his palm, weight shifting from one leg to the next. Antsy, he needed to calm down, Loki wasn’t even speaking, wasn’t even _moving_ so why was his skin trying to crawl off his body? Because his best friend was on the line, was on his way to break this criminal out so they could wreck havoc together instead of stopping it.

_Everything will fall into place… He will fall into place… He will fall._

Steve was back to gnawing on his lower lip again. Loki didn’t fidget, didn’t mumble against his mouthpiece, didn’t make any movement to show he was uncomfortable or irritated at his current predicament. This was an awful lot like Germany, how he’d given up easily only to get close to Banner; was he planning on Tony coming in to save the day? For what purpose would that serve, it was reckless and dangerous – they could very well capture the two of them and then where would they be? Something told Steve that if he wanted to, if he really wanted to, Loki would have broken out by now, Hulk or no Hulk.

“Clint,” he called over the intercom.

“Yeah?” Came the reply, mouth full of some sort of food.

“I want you outside on the deck with Banner looking out for Tony.”

“Tony?” He repeated, but sounded compliant.

“He might come back and try to pull a rescue.”

“Fucking brilliant.”

And before anyone could react there was an explosion underneath them, rocking the Helicarrier like some earthquake in the sky. Steve bumped into the side of the hallway hard and almost tumbled forward, as it felt the strongest underneath him. Again, another force shook them and this time he heard metal groaning. With careful steps, Steve walked towards the holding cell and peered over the railings. The metal doors that opened at the touch of a button and sent the cell, and its occupant, falling through the sky had two prominent dents in it. Mind controlled or not, Tony wasn’t stupid. Another explosion, another dent in the doors, and Steve was thrown backwards. He could hear Clint swearing along the radio waves and Natasha shouting over him, ordering the crew up top to clear out and get inside. Above him there was a vicious roar, from Bruce no doubt, and the clamor of soldiers sprinting through the hallways.

“The holding cell!” Steve finally found his voice, along with his footing. “Tony’s breaking through the – ”

Metal screamed as Tony let loose a barrage of repulsor blasts. He couldn’t deny the slightly panicked swell in his gut as one final blast rang through the area and Iron Man flew in, landing with a clunky thud on the walkway. His faceplate turned to Loki before moving his attention to Steve. The visor came up and the blonde could see the green flash behind his chocolate hues.

“Tony,” Steve tried in a warning tone. He hadn’t pulled his shield from his back yet.

“Move aside,” came the gruff response.

“Don’t do this.”

“ _Move aside_.”

“This isn’t you, you can fight it,” his arm came up behind him, gently running his fingers over the shield’s handle as Tony lifted his palm up, but lowered it halfway as if in afterthought.

“No, see, you’re wrong Steve – this is me, the _real_ me, so what exactly am I fighting? Loki’s opened up a whole new world to me – ”

“Tony…”

“ – a world of endless possibilities – ”

“You’re delusional.”

“ – and I owe him everything.”

Steve sidestepped to the control panel, moved his free hand over the red button and stared dead into Tony’s eyes.

“I prefer if you didn’t take my stuff, Rogers,” his tilted his head to the side, watching with an arm coming back up to eye level. “Or drop it – that’s sort of rude, you know.”

“Then stand down,” a long shot, but he took it.

The visor clamped down, and Tony’s voice could be heard over the speakers. “Not an option.”

Simultaneously, Steve threw up his shield to defend the oncoming repulsor blast and slammed his hand on the button. What was left of the metal doors screeched open and the cell holding the God was released and squeezed through the wreckage, plummeting to the ground below. Tony cursed, threw another blast at the still standing super soldier before rocketing up and out at top speed.

“Clint! He’s out!”

“I’m on it.”

The Quinjet was already speeding out of the hangar, southbound to the Iron Man. The back hatch opened and Hawkeye was ready with his bow pulled back, red dot sight searching for the metal man. Special tip armed, he fired; Tony barrel rolled and shot it down, returning his speedy descent. He spared a blast at the reinforced glass and it didn’t budge – rockets then. The remaining rockets flew towards the glass, cracking spider web designs throughout the cylinder. Another roll, another arrow, acceleration – the ground was coming up and fast. Tony moved all energy to the thrusters and pushed, shattering the glass with his iron body. The restraints were paper in his hands as he crushed and tore away at them to free the God. Loki fell into him, dropping them both against the unbroken glass. Wrapping his arms around him securely, pulling their chests flush together, Tony pushed off the glass and shot out the other side, pausing in a hover to make sure the other was all right. The mouthpiece was still laced around his face and as he reached over gingerly, or as gently as one could with metal fingers, Hawkeye fired another arrow. It exploded on impact, hitting the Iron Man square in the back, jostling Tony inside his suit and Loki in his now loosened grasp. The God slipped but the metal arm tightened around his chest, chaffing the armor against his bruises. He grunted against the mouthpiece, narrowing his eyes at Stark, silently urging him to pull the infernal contraption off of him despite the thick blot of smoke rising from the armor. A smooth finger slipped between the buckle and Loki’s cheek and pulled, snapping it off and letting the invention fall. In an instant Hawkeye lost sight of them both, left with nothing but a dust cloud of green, glittering in the sunlight.

Slamming his fist into the side of the hull, Clint radioed in. “They’re gone – I fucking lost them.”

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

In a bundle of black leather and painted iron, Tony and Loki fumbled out of the teleportation cycle in the middle of living room. They landed on their sides, skidding to a stop at the dining table with an arm still clenched around the God’s chest. Smoke filled the area quickly and with a languid wave of Loki’s hand it was gone, suit and all, into whatever magic space he teleported things to. Underneath the suit, the back of Tony’s shirt sported charred holes, and beneath were splotchy fresh burns. He grunted as Loki roughly pushed himself out of the mortal’s hold, armor replaced with casual Asgardian garb. His hair was a disheveled mess, black chunks falling across his face and curled upwards in odd places. Wild eyes were searching the hideout as he attempted to control his short bursts of breath. There was nothing but the fur covered couches, the ash filled fireplace, the dining table behind them and the empty décor of the house walls. The paranoia drifted away and Loki twisted, stiffly, to look at Tony who was still managing his own heavily pained breathing on the floor. He caught sight of the burn marks between the holes in his shirt and lifted a thin hand to touch then gingerly with the pads of his fingers. There came a small hiss but nothing else in the way of protesting as the fingers pushed the shirt up. They wove in angry patterns up his spine and around his ribcage, blistering in the best places, and unsightly charred skin in the worst.

“You’re hurt,” Tony said, noticing the blossomed bruises around the God’s face, no doubt underneath his tunic as well.

Loki forced a low chuckle. “I do believe you require more immediate attention.”

“I’ve had worse days,” he gave a genuine smirk as he pointed to the arc reactor. “Trust me.”

He didn’t doubt that for a moment and quietly agreed with a quick head tilt. Pressing a hand to his hip, Loki moved the other onto his stomach and put a chilling hand in the middle of his back. Another soft hiss but no complaining as the feeling of ice poured over his back, across the blisters and the burns. Slowly the skin began to heal; flesh pulled itself together and the blisters shrank and died away. A soothing relief, albeit freezing relief, washed over Tony and he sighed softly into the wood flooring. When the hand pulled away so did the thirty degree temperature.

“Thanks,” Tony said as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Loki only nodded, pulling his hands into his lap, but not before the brunette caught a wrist. His fingers played against the porcelain skin, felt the pulse slow to a steady beat. “I’m sorry.”

Loki said nothing, only raised his brows high and looked down the bridge of his nose at the billionaire.

“I lost track of you, you were attacked and captured, and I almost failed to rescue you,” he sounded uncharacteristically melancholy. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“The blunder is forgotten,” he said simply. “If only because we managed to enrage your friends.”

Tony snorted a laugh. “Yeah we did, didn’t we?” He lifted the hand up to his lips, brushed them against the knuckles before leaving a kiss upon each digit. “I’d still like to make it up to you.”

Loki offered a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he slid his hand away from the mortal. “You will, in due time. Rest assured, should you make the same mistake twice you will not live long enough to regret it.”

A shrug. “Just a minor miscalculation.”

The God had to wonder what his definition of “minor” was, but let it go with a distasteful look gracing his features. With forced movement Loki lifted himself from the floor and stalked off, as best he could with the pinch in his leg, towards the staircase leading to the second floor. Before he disappeared completely out of Tony’s view, the smell of freshly prepared food filled the air. When the former hero pulled himself onto his own two feet, he saw that the table had been decorated as it had been the past several days – roast pig, Asgardian delicacies, steaming pastries and chilled fruits. It was all too much for just one man to eat; especially when said one man didn’t eat a lot to begin with. Tony stared at it all for a minute or two before settling on a bowl of fruit. He took the small bowl with him as he followed the God’s footsteps up the wooden stairs, around a narrow corner before coming to a stop at a closed door. Opening the door slowly, disregarding all manners of knocking, and peered his head around between the doorframe and the door itself. The scientist had half expected to see Loki at his desk, flipping away through the dozens upon dozens of books that were stacked around the room in chaotic organization. Instead he found him laying on the bed, on top of the sheets, semi-curled in on himself. The fruit was forgotten on the desk as Tony moved towards the bed, towards Loki. He noted the strangely exhausted look that played across the sleeping God’s face. Tony had asked about it once; the exhaustion, the look of plagued death, the thinner than usual physique and the porcelain paleness. Not his lips though, not after the first time, there was something deeply personal about them and it wasn’t his place. It wasn’t his place to ask about the rest either, and Loki hadn’t dignified him with a rightful answer. Why would he? Tony was on a need to know basis.

Despite that, he still wanted to know. It wasn’t the effect of the spell; the real Tony, the hero, wanted to know. Not that he would admit this without question from the one should-be King in front of him. He let the back of his hand slide against the sharply angled, yet soft skinned cheek and brushed away several rebellious strands of hair from his face. This would begin to bother him eventually, not now of course because the enchantment took care of that, but later. When, or _if_ , S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers fixed him, this, whatever the hell _this_ was, would bother him. Beyond the faux loyalty he spewed to Steve, beyond the destruction and the childish trickery and mischief; that was the work of the spell weaving through his arc reactor. It was _this_ , the unclouded affection whether it was pity or something else entirely – it shouldn’t be and it would bother him. For now, Tony didn’t bat an eyelash at it and simply crawled across the sheets and settled himself next to Loki. He draped an arm around the God’s shoulder, cradled the back of his head and tucked him underneath his jaw before slipping into the same, exhaustion filled sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Loki dreamt of silence. Suffocating, terrible, _ugly_ silence. Not a crackle of a dried leaf, the snap of a twig, or the whistle of the wind. Grey fog drifted over a colorless landscape as the deafening nothing wrapped cold, dead arms around him. He wanted, no _needed_ , to scream but the thick golden thread woven tightly through his lips kept him quiet, like the world around him. Jaw muscles clenched and stretched, straining and pulling painfully. There was too much silence, he was drowning in it, he couldn’t breathe and no matter how desperately he clawed at the strings they would not yield.

Something was different, the bright blue light in the horizon reaching through the unrelenting fog, a warmth chasing away the frigidness. His hands slipped away from his bloodied mouth as Loki stared almost longingly at it, like he’d never seen this sharp shade of azure before, but he had. He reached out to touch it and it was solid, smooth. Like glass. Like metal. Like iron.

Eyes like green agates opened and reflected the light off the arc reactor in front of him. Fingers were splayed against it and it took Loki a minute to realize they were his. They curled, short nails scraping against the surface, before he pulled the hand back to his own chest. Tony was beginning to make a habit of sneaking in when he fell asleep, not that it bothered him much. Sometimes it was nice to wake up to a warm, willing – albeit controlled – body beside him. Stark would curl around him like a damn safety blanket, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other wrapped firmly around his middle, arm tucked underneath his ribcage. It was one of those mornings as he found himself practically nose to nose with Tony’s arc reactor and a leg hooked around his knee. He snaked his leg out from the tangled fray but kept his place in the man’s arms if only to lay there a bit longer before Tony woke up. They were in no rush.

Absently, a few fingers felt along his split and cracked lips, memorizing the already unforgettable scars brought on by the enchanted golden threads. They stung, only in memory, as he traced over them, pressed into each dip that spilled over his lips and onto his flesh. Silence had been his punishment, and to a man, a God, who possessed a tongue of silver it had been torturous. He frowned at the memory, but who could blame the All-Father? He can’t remember his face, the possibly stern look that matched his tone as he drawled on about his sentence; he can’t – or won’t rather – remember what Thor was doing in all of this as he stood at the King’s side. But Frigga, dearest mother be it not by blood but only by unhindered love, she held back the tears that threatened to spill over with her lips pressed together in a thin, dissatisfied line. But she held her head high, stood tall with shoulders pulled back, and saw out Loki’s punishment. He couldn’t read her, he hadn’t been sure if the unwavering stare she gave him was of disappointment or sorrow – both?

Loki shut his eyes, dragging his fingers over his upper lip. So what if Odin had cast him out, without a second chance as he had given Thor on Earth? So what if Thor hadn’t verbally protested against the thread that bound him in silence? So what if Frigga wanted her baby boy back? Lies, that’s all they had been – Loki _Odinson_ had been nothing more than just a wretched lie. Odin could see that now, Thor so foolishly held onto the idea, and Frigga… well, Loki couldn’t blame her for wanting her family back together. His eyes stung terribly.

A hand in his hair stirred, fingers lightly scraping against his scalp followed by a soft sigh. Tony mumbled something incoherent into Loki’s hair, nose brushing against the strands. When silence fell upon them both, the brunette repeated himself.

“Mornin’ princess,” because even half-asleep he had to be teasing.

Loki remained quiet, only moved his hand away from his lips to tap a long finger on the arc reactor through the shirt thoughtfully. With Tony awake, perhaps not completely alert though, he moved all sullen thoughts to the farthest, darkest corners in his mind and locked them away for good measure. Need to know basis after all.

“Are you well?”

“Asks the guy who was thrown around like a ragdoll,” though the words weaved humorously, his tone was serious.

Loki rolled his eyes underneath the closed lids. “I am a God, Stark, who possesses magic – you need not worry over me.”

But he had all the reasons in the world to worry, because the spell caused him to be so overly protective. The curiosity, on the other hand, was all Tony but he wouldn’t admit that aloud. Instead, he slipped the hand out of his hair and gripped Loki’s jawline, pressing up on it so they could converse eye to eye. With eyes open, the raven-haired male decidedly gave the other a stoic expression, despite the lingering question in his brown, flecked with green, orbs. _Are you sure?_

“Stark,” it was a warning.

“Excuse me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, sir,” Tony began. “But – ”

“You are.”

“ – trust me when I say it isn’t healthy to suppress your feelings.” Well wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.

Loki let out a short, strained bark of a laugh. “And who are _you_ to think that you could even begin to understand my situation?”

“No one,” he answered simply. “Only the mortal you chose to bind.”

“Because you are nothing more than a challenge!” Loki hissed, losing his temper. He swatted away the hand at his cheek. “You are _mine_ to control, to possess, to bring down to my level.”

“Why bring me down to your level?”

“I told you why – ”

“No, not why _me_ , why bring me down? Don’t you want revenge on the Avengers, on all of us because of what we did? Thor isn’t here, it would be so easy with me by your side, and then in the end you can just kill me off. But instead we’re gallivanting around the world causing mischief – which is fun, don’t get me wrong because it’s like one of my drunken rampages but sober. You can do that on your own though, you don’t need me for that,” Tony paused, returning his hand to the other’s cheek. “Why bring one specific man down when you can destroy the entire army?”

Loki stared at him for a good, long minute with eyes that could bore a hole into his very soul. A hand curled around his own, gently pulling it off his face and setting it between them. Then the lithe hand shot up with a burst of speed, grabbing Tony by the jaw roughly. He pushed the man over, rolling them so he could straddle the shorter male’s hips, their faces a hair’s length from one another. With his lips upturned in a snarl, Loki nearly tore Tony’s hair out of his scalp when his free hand gripped the short strands and pulled.

“You wish to bring your Avengers down?” He sneered and tightened his grip in the brown locks when Tony opened his mouth to interrupt him. “I keep them alive so that they may witness your downfall, but you seem so _adamant_ to kill them off, don’t you? Who am I to deny you anything, Stark? Only the _God_ who holds power over you!”

They stared at each other again, not as long as the last, before Tony’s swallowed a tight knot in his throat. Loki leaned down and licked a long, slow line up his Adam’s apple.

“Did you forget your place?” He breathed against his neck. “You are _beneath_ me, an ant at the mercy of my boot, and should I find your company more trouble than I see worth, I will _crush you_.”

Tony shivered, though he was unsure as to whether it was the breath against his neck or the words that whispered against it.

“Do not over step your boundaries, Stark.”

“Yes sir.” His voice sounded too loud in his ears.

“But…” Loki said thoughtfully as he dragged himself up into a sitting position on his haunches. He looked like he had a filthy little secret. “You do have a point – why should I keep them _all_ alive? Which one should we be rid of, hm?”

Tony didn’t answer and Loki pretended to make an easy decision look painstakingly hard. He tapped a finger to the brunette’s lips in thought.

“Someone worth the sentiment?” He pondered aloud with a wicked grin. “Director Fury? He believed in you at your lowest point – ah, but he was only _using_ you. No, he would not do. The agents? What of your relationship with Agents Barton and Romanoff?”

Tony shrugged.

“No? What of the beast who plays a man? You believe in him, do you not? That he can change his ways, become one with his inner monster for the greater good.”

“But the ‘Other Guy’ won’t have any of it,” the brunette pointed out. “He’d kill us both, or at least beat the tar out of you, kill me despite our friendship.”

“Yes,” Loki drawled and leaned forward, covering the man with the length of his body. He pinched his lower lip between his forefinger and thumb. “That would be dreadful. _Oh_ , but what of the soldier, the leader? He believes in you, Stark, that you are truly good. I wonder…” he pinched harder, laughing as he continued, “… what his lasts thoughts would be if you killed him, his best friend and comrade.”

Somewhere buried almost too deep, the real Tony was screaming.

“It should be slow, so you can relish his expression, burn it into your mind,” he grinned and it was dark and twisted, wide and splitting the scars on his lips. “You strike me as a man who likes to get things done, though. Quick and efficient, I like that about you Stark. Show you mean business, that you would not bat an eye at striking down your friend.”

“Is that what you want?” Tony asked suddenly, and the smirk on Loki’s face faltered as a hand came up to rest on his cheek for the third time that morning. “You want me to lose everything, to have nothing, like you, so maybe you won’t be alone anymore.”

Loki blinked with something one could say was surprise in his eyes. He wanted to rip the man’s bottom lip off, smack him across the face so that his neck practically snapped, tear out his arc reactor so that the cardiac arrest would kill him slowly. He did none of those things, but by the nine he thought about it. The hand in Tony’s hair jerked back, causing the man to flinch.

“I want you to kill Steve Rogers,” he spoke slowly, as if Stark wouldn’t understand him any other way. There was so much poison in his voice, Loki felt like he could spit acid at this point. “And it is as _simple_ as that.”

“Nothing is ever simple with you,” Tony gave a shit eating smirk and the hand at his lips reared to backhand him. There would most definitely be a bruise, if there wasn’t one already.

In one fluid motion Loki crawled off of Stark, off the bed, and pulled the brunette by the hair up and off, across the room, and with a wave of his hand the door to the bedroom swung open so he could literally throw the mortal out into the hallway. With a shoulder rotating motion of his arm, the door slammed shut, nearly splintering the doorframe, and Loki was left in the center of the room with the vicious intent to kill someone. He was letting Tony get too far under his skin when he wasn’t even supposed to be scratching the surface. Running his fingers through his hair, dragging against the scalp, Loki took in an uneven breath and let out a shaky sigh. _Fuck._

What did _Stark_ know? _The truth_ rang somewhere in the back of his mind and he slammed a heavy tome on the desk, rattling the bowl of fruit from last night, to drown it out. Practically flinging open the pages, Loki mindlessly read through the words like they were nothing more than that, words on a page neither registering nor comprehending them. It was like Tony was still in the room, obnoxiously loud and terribly distracting with his tenor tone speaking irrefutable truths about him being alone. So what? He rolled his shoulders back as he leaned against the hard backing of the chair he sat in, carelessly shifting his gaze to the bowl of fruit. There was no reason for him to be angry because wasn’t this his goal? Tony would fall from heroism into his lap as a broken shell of his former self, and Loki – because he is such a kind and caring God – would take him, shape him, make him a vicious, villainous force to be reckoned with. It’s their similarities that brought Loki to him, not back to boringly obedient Barton or to any other Avenger. It would be easy, this was supposed to be easy, but he found it suddenly painful to look at Tony because of the mirror image he held.

It was another day before Loki left his room, leaving Stark to himself downstairs. His steps were quiet as he stalked down the stairs. He half expected the brunette to be doing something he wasn’t suppose to, but instead the raven-haired God found the mortal lounging on the couch in front of the fireplace, asleep. One leg was haphazardly thrown over the side, the other propped against the armrest. An arm was thrown behind his head as a makeshift pillow while the other rested on his chest, half covering the arc reactor. The bruise of the backhand from yesterday was noticeable even in the dim light. Loki trailed a finger up the length of the man, starting with his ankle and working his way over the calf, the slightly bent knee, tickling the inside of his thigh – earning him a slight twitch – slowly counted each indentation of the ribcage, and when he reached the arc reactor Tony had moved his arm. He looked up to see the man staring back at him with careful eyes.

“Finished planning my death?” He teased and it earned him a forced smile from the other.

“I was doing no such thing,” he tapped the reactor uninterestingly before continuing his trail up.

“That so? That’s a relief,” there was a pause in the conversation as Loki’s finger tickled at his collarbone. “You don’t strike me as the apologizing type and you aren’t dressed for mischief, so what brings you out of your cave of wonders my little diamond in the rough.”

Loki arched an eyebrow, the reference lost to him. “To make sure I did not kill you yesterday.”

Silence stretched for a long moment before Tony burst out into sudden laughter. It took the God by surprise.

“You waited almost a complete day to make sure I wasn’t rotting outside your door?” He managed between chuckles.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sentiment is not something I am familiar with.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tony smiled, slightly nervous of the hand at his neck. The cool fingers were splayed around the nape, thumb scraping at the shell of his ear. He reached up to grab him by the wrist gently and tugged. “C’mere.”

Loki leaned in, despite himself, resting his free hand on the back of the couch. There was a breath of silence that overtook them while the brunette stared, hard, at the other before pulling himself up to place a not-so chaste kiss on the scarred lips. Loki let him, if only to threaten the man later – or so he told himself.

“You are trying my patience,” he growled.

“I was trying to apologize for earlier,” Tony replied innocently, same shit eating smirk from yesterday plastered to his face. “Scout’s honor.”

The God hummed, pressing his lips together into a tight line, watching the man through his lashes. The brunette’s lips were warm, soft, pliant in the ways his own were cold, hard, and resistant.

“I _am_ sorry about pushing you before,” the man repeated his apology, this one more convincing. “I was out of line.”

“You were.”

“But I still believe in what I said.”

“Do you now?” He said it as if he meant to say ‘of course you do’ because there was truth to what he said, not like he’d admit it aloud.

Tony reached out with a tentative hand to brush back the chunks of black hanging out of place. “You’re lonely.”

“ _And_?” So what? He thrived off loneliness, his detachment from others and lack of sentimental value towards another living thing.

Although the one word sounded harsh, Tony dared to answer. “I mean, that should say it all, right? People get lonely, it’s in human nature – and just because you’re a God doesn’t mean you’re immune to human emotion – but that isn’t all, not with you.”

“Oh, enlightenment me, please,” Loki drawled irritably.

But Tony shrugged. “I’d love to, sir, but I can’t. I know there’s more, but I don’t know what it is specifically. You’re complicated.”

“No,” the God pushed his fingers against the long line of bone. “You are simply too thick to understand.”

“Then why don’t _you_ enlighten _me_?” Tony quirked a half smile.

Need to know basis. Loki mirrored the sorry excuse for a smile. “Valiant effort, but no.”

The brunette didn’t seem too surprised by the answer and contently settled himself into the soft cushions of the couch, Loki’s hand remaining at the back of his skull. “Fair enough. So, if you weren’t planning my imminent doom, what _were_ you planning up in the bat cave?”

“Your fall from grace,” he answered cryptically.

The mortal raised his eyebrows. “ _Oh_ , sounds exciting.”

“We are going to bring the battle to your Avengers ourselves,” Loki translated, but was rewarded with a fallen look.

“Are you sure about that?” Tony asked. “That seems a little reckless, even for you.”

The God hummed. “I want to know everything about the Stark Tower.”

Where to start? It was 1,138-foot Vibranium reinforced concrete and steel tower. JARVIS ran through its entirety, acting as the security, alarm, and communication systems. The uppermost floors were home to the Avengers – each penthouse was built to serve each team member’s needs. The floors below that contained conference rooms, computer data, laboratories, the workshop, training facilities, and the works. The roof held all S.H.I.E.L.D. issued aircrafts for those who weren’t flight capable. The tower was like a blueprint in his mind, his baby, his special monument formerly to himself but now a beacon of heroism that encompassed the Avengers. He couldn’t help but notice, when he was finished, the mischievous glint in the bright emerald hues.

“You’re planning on toppling it, aren’t you?”

His cruel, twisted grin said it all. “How observant you are when you want to be.”

Tony scoffed. “I’m always observant.”

Loki made a patronizing face, as if to say ‘are you sure about that?’ but said nothing of it. “Be ready when I call for you.”

“Yes sir,” he answered obediently, but not long after defiantly leaned up to brush his lips against the other’s.

“Kiss me again and I will bite your lips off.” Loki warned with a hardened gaze, but made no effort to move away, as if daring him to continue, to call his bluff, because he really had liked the way their opposing lips felt together.

Tony flicked his tongue over one of the deep crevices wounding the thin lips. “Yes sir.”

There was a low growl resonating in the back of the pale man’s throat, irritated at either his defiant lick or his obedient decision not to kiss him; he wasn’t entirely sure which. Loki pushed against the man’s nape, bringing Tony up to him before his tongue could retreat and caught it gingerly between his teeth. The brunette made a semi-panicked noise, tensing in preparation because all he could think about was the God clipping off his tongue with a quick pressure to his jaw. Instead, Loki brought their lips together, keeping Tony’s tongue trapped in a light suction with his mouth and the panicky whine turned into a low groan. He raised a hand to cup the angled, sharp cheek, bring him down against the cushions but Loki’s hand was quicker, snapping his fingers around the wrist and holding it to the back of the couch. The raven-haired immortal was in control and he made it clear with the bruising force of the kiss and how he hovered his long, lanky body just above Tony’s to crowd him. And the brunette made no complaints, though his mouth was too busy to do so even if he wanted to, and just enjoyed the molestation at his lips, the ravaging, nibbling teeth at his tongue. When Loki finally pulled away, making an absolutely _obscene_ noise as he let go of Tony’s slippery appendage, his eyes were shining a deep, rich green like beautiful, solid jewels. They gasped for shallow breathes as one of them tried desperately to get a handle on the spinning planet – Tony – and the other licked his lips wantonly – Loki – tasting mead.

“Uhm,” the brunette tried for words, but they were, miraculously, lost to him. He hadn’t expected that.

“Did that satisfy your lust for now, Stark?” The God murmured, tone dark with words practically dripping from his scarred lips.

“Not particularly,” he answered breathily. If anything he’d made it much worse. He wanted more. The taste of sin was on the tip of his tongue, brushing against his lips, and glittering in the agates in front of him. Tony moved to drink from him again and Loki let him.

It was more teeth than lips, an animalistic and desperate need, resolute and fulfilling. Loki laughed as his lower lip was trapped, so tightly between the other’s teeth he tasted familiar copper. Tony lapped at it, like an overly apologetic dog, before there was another fierce press of lips, a lack of oxygen, a throaty moan neither one of them wanted to admit to. The hand that had once been gripping the brunette’s wrist against the back of the couch now slid down his arm, tickled down his ribcage and found the hem of his shirt. A hitched breath caught in Tony’s throat as cold fingers muscled their way up his chest only to rake down his sides. They dug into his waist greedily, possessively, keeping the shorter man’s slowly rolling hips pinned against the cushions. Tony felt like a horny teenager again, lewdly making out on the couch with stifling sexual tension buzzing between them, but this time the hesitation was on his side. This wasn’t some teenage girl hung up on his looks, his bad boy personality, and the billions of dollars in his pocket. This was a God, of Mischief, of Chaos, of driving him crazy with that incredible swirling rotation of his tongue on the roof of his mouth – _fuck_. One wrong assumption, because one could never be too careful assuming with Loki, and he would very well loose an appendage.

The hand at his neck was slowly working its way up into his hair, fisting the brown strands non-too gently. Their lips parted, a string of saliva straining between them, and Tony’s head was wrenched back, exposing his neck. His Adam’s apple was attacked again, a tantalizingly slow, wet line licking up and around his jaw until Loki felt the frantically beating pulse beneath his right ear. He sunk his teeth into the flesh, as if to eat the very breath that made Stark tick, and Tony let him, letting out a half laugh, half groan as he felt the skin break. There was no apologetic kiss or flick of the tongue, Loki wasn’t sorry because he was marking what was his, what belonged to him, for all of his friends to see when or if they got a hold of him. He felt a hand thread its way into his own raven black locks and it was acceptable for now, fingers simply kneading into his scalp encouragingly.

Fingers at Tony’s waist tapped an almost rhythmic beat against his skin and in a blink of an eye his AC/DC shirt was gone and Loki wasted no time trailing a path of bite marks down the tanned expanse of chest like an artist on a blank canvas. He painted a masterpiece with horrifying patience and meticulous perfection, nibbling in all the right sensitive places, soothing and teasing him in one, dragging lick across the abdomen, and just the right amount of pain mixed with pleasure as the hand from Tony’s hair dragged short nails across the freshly bitten flesh. He was rough and unmerciful, but even the real Tony far, _far_ back in his mind wouldn’t utter a resemblance of the word ‘stop’. Loki bit into his hipbone after his fingers had dragged the leggings down far enough for him to reach, and the brunette hissed; the God chuckled against the skin, nose brushing it teasingly.

“Am I too much for you, Stark?” Tony could practically hear the triumphant smirk in his voice, but he shot back with his own confidence, albeit breathy, reply.

“W-What, were you trying to deter me from desiring you?” He laughed. “Not happening, sir.”

“Good,” Loki growled, burying his face into his hip. “Because I am hardly done with you.”

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

The conference room was deeply seeded in a conversation that would be considered civil by S.H.I.E.L.D.’s standards, despite the shouting that was ensuing. One voice, blunt and commanding, was that of Nick Fury and surprisingly the one conflicting him, polite but dangerously firm, belonged to Steve Rogers. They were arguing about Tony, about what was transpiring around the world, and Loki’s escape – namely the latter.

“And when did ejecting Loki from our custody seem like the correct course of action, Captain Rogers?”

“Sir, with all due respect, I was trying to get the target as far away from Tony as possible.”

“Did you forget his flight capability?”

“No, sir, but Clint – ”

“Hey, don’t try and pin this on me!” Barton piped up from his quiet corner.

Steve rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t.”

“Enough, Agent Barton,” Fury let out a sigh of unfathomable stress. “Rogers… we don’t know how far gone Stark is or how Loki has power over him, but from the looks of the security footage – ”

“What are you trying to say?” The blonde interrupted.

“The situation has changed,” Fury said it as if that explained everything and that was the end of that.

“Meaning?”

“We have to consider Stark a hostile,” it was Natasha who answered. “Just as he considers us now. If we can’t capture him, we’ll have to – ”

“What, kill him?” Steve interjected with a stone cold gaze. “He’s a member of our team and we’re just going to give up on him?”

The unsettled silence answered his question and Steve unceremoniously dismissed himself from the meeting. Natasha turned her gaze to the director, pressing the tips of her fingers together.

“Should I call in Colonel Rhodes for back up?” She asked.

Fury shook his head as he leaned back into his chair. “Give him time to cool off, he knows we’re running out of options.”

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

A fire crackled fiercely in the silence of the room, rolling off waves of heat to chase off the frigid winter storm outside. The smell of ash and burnt wood filled the air, wafting away the musky scent of sex. It was stuck on Stark, though, like a second skin, of his very essence, of Loki, of their dirty deeds. The God inhaled the mixture of smells with each content intake of breath, nose pressed gently into the man’s neck. It resembled that of a leopard’s fur – spotted, marked, Loki’s. The raven-haired male practically purred against him at the thought. Tony shifted in his light sleep, underneath the fur blanket sweeping over them, pressing Loki between the back of the couch and his body. The arc reactor faced him, causing his skin to mimic that of a topaz jewel. His fingers curled against the metal device, feeling his magic work through the oddity of wires and earthly mechanics. A reminder to him that the only reason Tony was so pliant, so vulnerable, so obedient was due to his enchantment. It was what he wanted, of course, but there was still something missing. There was _always_ something missing. Loki grimaced and pushed on the man’s chest; so what? He may not have what he needed, but he had what he wanted and that was enough, right?

_Right?_

Tony’s nose nuzzled gently into his midnight black strands and Loki shoved the mortal off the edge of the couch. The brunette flipped, landing on the floor face first with a solid thud. A smirk curled cruelly at Loki’s lips as he heard a faintly pained groan. He brought the fur blanket closer to him so the heat wouldn’t escape.

“What the hell…” Tony mumbled as he peeked up over the cushions. He swung an arm onto the couch and lifted himself up onto his knees, resting his chin on the back of his hand.

“You should be more careful,” Loki muttered innocently.

Lifting himself back onto the couch, leaving a polite amount of space between he and the God, the man lifted a skeptical eyebrow at the other. There had been a forceful pair of hands on his chest just before gravity played its game.

“Did I do something wrong, sir?”

Loki frowned but said nothing. He concentrated on the ravaged skin trailing down from Tony’s neck, across his chest, around the reactor before deepening further south into a bruising discoloration at the hips. Shadows hid the ones painted under his inner thighs. Behind Stark, the fire roared, casting autumn lights across the tanned skin and the rest of the room. Even without the reflection of it, the green flecks in the chocolate hues sparkled back at him, mocking, reminding, infuriating. But they were trusting, vulnerable, almost _understanding_ if the very notion of such a thing wasn’t so hilarious. Void of hatred, of fear, of anything that seemed remotely _real_. Loki wanted to push him off the couch again, but digressed.

Instead he brought himself back to a time when things were simpler, when the lie of Loki Odinson stood on the tongues of the royal family. He and Thor had been children playing in the palace gardens while Frigga eyed them carefully over her book. It was a time when Loki so desperately wanted to be like his older brother, the golden son, Father’s favorite. The blonde, a handful of years older than the raven-haired child, was playfully fighting with Hogun. They wrestled each other to the ground, laughing and shouting and being outright rambunctious. Thor won, of course, pinning his friend to the ground and with victory came a roar of pride and arrogance that Loki once envied. He could do that to, if the moment presented itself, which it had as his brother called him over to spar with Fandral. He bounded from his spot beneath the shade of a tree and hesitantly nodded, turning his head over his shoulder to make sure Mother was watching. She’d be so proud of him if he won, wouldn’t she? But as soon as he turned around to face his opponent, Fandral lunged at him, like a wild cat, pinning him down in the dirt of the flowerbed they had tumbled into. With all the strength he could muster up, Loki fought back and squirmed beneath the other, gritting his teeth in feral frustration at how embarrassing and weak this must’ve looked. And Fandral won, showing off and telling Thor he knew he could do it, it was easy, he was no competition. Loki refused to leave the rose bushes after that, despite the thorns. It wasn’t until Thor and his friends had wandered off else where to climb a tree like uncivil ruffians that Frigga came to pull her youngest from the mess of flowers.

“I wanted to win for you, Mother,” he whined, curling his knees to his chest.

She smiled warmly, moving an arm into the bush to beckon him out. “Sweetheart, you – ouch!”

Her hand recoiled to her chest, sporting a fresh, clean cut from a rose thorn. Loki’s eyes widened, fearful and guilt-ridden. His own hand shot forward, sleeve catching on the stems, and caught her hand in his. A single finger moved across the cut on the back of her hand, wiping away the blood and seemingly the cut all together.

“You’re improving,” she looked absolutely delighted.

“Sorry…” he managed, but Frigga shook her head.

“All is forgiven, darling, come here.” Loki crawled out from the bushes and into her lap, a bit big for that sort of thing at his age but Mother never discouraged it. “I love you, Loki, whether you win or lose.”

And there was truth in her eyes, an understanding, something frighteningly real that Loki had not seen in what seemed like centuries.

“Loki?” Tony’s voice shattered the memory, the warm feeling of innocent youth and his mother gone.

The God looked up, face masked but eyes glassed over with something he wouldn’t admit to and Tony wouldn’t bring up. This was not the place or the time to bring such trivial sentiments, even if it was what he needed.

“We leave for Stark Tower tomorrow,” he managed in a gritted voice. “Be ready.”

“Yes sir.”


	7. Chapter 7

The snow swept land reminded him of home – the one he was born into, not the golden city in the skies. Though Jotunheim had never once been considered his actual home in his heart, because to Loki he had nothing like that waiting for him, the frozen wastes of snow and ice felt familiar to him. He was like a black dot in the sea of white, wrapped in a heavy, feather-lined coat. Standing several yards away from the lonely brick house, Loki held his eyes shut in deep thought, letting the whistling wind serve as soothing background noise. He forgot about where he was, Midgard, and forgot about what he was doing here. He swept away the memories of the Isles of Silence and his messy escape from them. The enchantment, his journey, the mortal no doubt staring at him from the windows – all of it was now a blank page. It left room to remind himself of who he was, Loki Laufeyson, son of Laufey former King of Jotunheim, stolen Prince of Asgard, Frost Giant, monster… _God_. He was a God, of Mischief, of Chaos, of Lies. Mischief was nothing more than a way of life, chaos was the world around him, and lies his first language. A threat that should shake mere mortals to the core, a danger to those around him, a natural disaster no one could tame. Vicious, unmerciful, unyielding to soft, sentimental virtues that were such _weaknesses_ to fools like Thor. He had strength of mind, unmatchable power in words, and skills in magic that not even the Aesir mystics would dare touch. Loki opened his eyes and sucked in a slow even breath. He held a hand up to the falling ice, catching it on his pale fingers. With each snowflake that fell upon his skin, the coolness kissed away a bit of glamour, turning the spot blue for the duration of a blink of an eye.

_You are a lie._ His betrayed flesh screamed back at him and Loki let the breath he was holding out in a quick hissing snarl. _A monster; nothing more, nothing less._

“Sir?” Tony’s voice sounded loud in the quiet, remote space of land. He sounded hesitant, careful, as if saying anything else would cause Loki to turn and smite him where he stood.

“What?” The one word sounded incredibly forced. Despite that, his voice was carefully masked.

There was a long stretch of silence that fell upon them both before the sound of crunching snow beneath feet sliced through. A shaking hand gripped Loki’s forearm, causing the God to turn his head slightly to see the shivering figure of the mortal underneath the black fur blanket. He could only assume he wasn’t stupid enough to walk out here only wearing the blanket and that he wore his clothes underneath. Regardless of what he was wearing, it was below freezing outside; not the best weather conditions for anyone familiar with the golden sun of California.

“What?” He repeated, softer this time but painted with the same amount of impatience as before.

Tony swallowed a hard lump in his throat before opening his mouth to speak. “What’s bothering you?”

Loki snorted. “What gives you the impression something ails me?”

The brunette motioned to the barren land around them with a nod of his head. “Is freezing to death a hobby of yours?”

“I cannot ‘freeze to death’ as you put it,” and the words were overly bitter. “Contrary to your believe, I quite like the cold.”

“You have a weird way of showing it.” Loki quirked his head in a silent question. “You’re just standing out here. Usually people make snow angels and build snowmen and throw snowballs – ”

“I do not have time for your Midgardian games, I was deep in thought before you interrupted me,” he snapped quickly, twisting his arm away from Tony’s hand.

“Sorry.” It didn’t sound sincere. “What were you thinking about?”

Loki was beginning to wonder if Stark even knew the meaning behind a “need to know basis” relationship. It wasn’t as if he had ordered him not to ask, not to be curious, but one would suspect after so many questions were going unanswered, one would stop asking. Perhaps that was another thing he was fond of, his persistence. It could be shaped into unbreakable diligence.

“You should not be out here,” he said instead, motioning with a languid movement of his hand to the raining snow around them. “This weather is hardly kind to those who are dressed so irresponsibly.”

Tony shivered underneath the blanket and he tugged it closer to him. His teeth chattered against the inside of his cheeks and his lips were beginning to turn a light shade of red edged with fading blues. He wasn’t entirely sure which was better, this snow covered wasteland or the Middle Eastern desert he’d wandered through. Of course he was out here by choice but it didn’t make the weather any more comfortable. Tony stood in the snow up to his ankles, shifting his weight from leg to leg, trying to pry information out of Loki’s chapped lips but couldn’t find the right words. Instead, he outstretched a hand again towards the God’s, searching for it blindly underneath the hem of feathers. When he found the pale appendage Tony brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle softly as if to ease away Loki’s worries. His lips were warm, despite their harsh color. The gesture was mildly soothing.

Finally the God turned to face him completely, leaving his hand in Tony’s grasp. The blanket had shifted down his shoulders, showing off the rough bruise at the man’s pulse and Loki allowed a half-smile at the memory. He twisted his hand free to run the pads of his fingers over the raised skin, the small indentations of teeth marks that broke skin. Underneath his hand, he felt Tony shudder as a sudden gust swept over them.

“Go inside,” Loki said softly, more of a suggestion than an order.

The wind picked up again but Tony stubbornly shook his head in refusal. He took a step forward, closing the distance between him and the God, and stared straight into the depths of Loki’s green eyes.

“Anything you need, sir, you can count on me. That’s why I’m here,” his voice sounded far away, as if the wind had snatched it up.

“You are here because I command you to be,” the other countered, dropping the hand to his side. “What more can you offer beyond what I ask?”

“Well what you don’t ask for, for starters,” came the snappy reply and continued quickly after, “And I know, I know – need to know basis. But don’t you trust me?”

Trust? Loki swallowed down a barking laugh, but chuckled all the same. “To do as I ask, nothing more.”

Tony frowned. “You’re a real motivational speaker, you know that?”

“Enlighten me, then,” he rolled his shoulders back, shifting his weight to one side.

The brunette fell silent for a moment to organize the haphazard pile of thoughts running amok in his head. It was hard to decipher what was what when it seemed like two entities were inhabiting a single body; somewhere the real Tony wanted to sock Loki in the face, and the other half wanted to hold him naked underneath the blanket again in front of the fireplace. The sex, however, was a unanimous yes – priorities though, there needed to be order in the court of Tony’s mind.

He thought back to when Thor had spoke about his not-so brotherly brother, how he came to be in the presence of Earth and why he aimed his blind rage at it. A lie, a simple, yet destructive lie all their lives, and Thor with his arrogance and temper; a fall that would never be undone. While the specifics were lost to him, Tony had heard enough. After Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard, no one brought the subject up again; he wondered, now, if it was out of shame – shame for his brother or shame for himself for letting this punishment be brought upon Loki.

Tony brought a hand up to the man’s sharp face, hovered with hesitation above his sunken cheekbone and settled on resting his hand on his lower jaw. “I will _never_ disappoint you. I will _never_ give up on you – not like Odin, or Thor, or Asgard. I know what it feels like, believe me, to be used, to be forgotten and left behind while you know you could’ve made a difference, you were made for something bigger. I won’t use you, I won’t leave you behind, I will never lie to you – and let’s face it, if I tried you’d catch me in a heartbeat, right?” He chanced a smile before continuing, “I can be everything you’ve ever wanted, ever _needed_. You are a _King_ , you deserve everything.”

Loki hummed, letting the words soak into his brain, causing a twisted smile to split his face. “And what exactly am I King of?”

“Well, me, of course,” Tony grinned, lifting up on his tiptoes to brush his lips against scarred flesh. “So let me be your Knight in shining gold titanium alloy?”

“Amusing,” the God rolled his eyes, moving away from the touch of his kiss and hand, but the mortal kept their distance minimal with another step forward.

“I’m being serious, Loki,” his tone turned hard again, losing the humor from before as he lost himself in the emerald pools. “Let me in, let me help, I _want_ to.”

But the green flecks in his eyes shone brightly and Loki knew he didn’t want to; he had to because of the enchantment running through his veins. It sounded too good, and it was, but Gods be damned if he didn’t want it. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well then, my Knight, shall we claim our kingdom starting with your precious tower?” He asked, running his fingers through the tuffs of Tony’s hair.

“Yes,” he breathed in reply.

“And will you kill their leader in my name?”

“Anything you want, sir,” Tony kissed the ruined skin a second time. “And I will kneel before you so that everyone can see that I’m no hero.” Another pause to kiss, his lips this time. “I’m yours.”

Loki laughed against the other’s lips, a low but true laugh like the brunette had never heard before. It was smooth, deep, and ran over him like thick, warm honey.

“Then we should not keep them waiting,” said the God and with a twist of his wrist the two men were gone, leaving nothing but the light scent of ozone in their wake.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Dark clouds hung in Manhattan’s horizon to the north, plaguing the skyline with the idea that a storm was in the near future. A brilliant flash of lightening broke through the thick, hazy mass and thunder rumbled in the distance. The weather mocked the Avengers, calling forth the storm and rain without their master God to wield his power, without Thor to appreciate the howling wind and flashy ruckus. For Loki, it was a breath of fresh air, of freedom, of sunshine despite the clouds because his brother’s looming shadow was nowhere in sight. The smell of humidity was in the air and it hadn’t even begun to rain yet. Standing on top of one of many skyscrapers in New York City, he and Tony looked over their goal, their prize, the Stark Tower standing high above the rest. Where it had once said “STARK” in glowing lights across the landing pad, it now read “AVENGERS” in the same style. The roof worked as a landing pad for all S.H.I.E.L.D. issued aircrafts; the remaining Quinjet and another unfamiliar plane were parked there. Tony had mentioned the A.I. JARVIS surveyed the area twenty-four seven and as soon as they touched the property the Avengers would be no doubt alerted of their presence. Loki was counting on it.

The sticky, warm wind whipped his hair around unceremoniously, a startling contrast to the frigid landscape they had just departed from. Tony appeared at his side, geared in full Iron Man armor Mark VII, with the faceplate of his helmet flipped up. While Loki eyed the Manhattan skyline like a greedy, hungry beast, the brunette shifted his gaze between the tower and the Norse God. There was a strange mixture of pride and possessiveness running through him; his team would do everything in their power to stop them and on their own turf they would pull out all the stops. In fact, he’d count on Fury and the Helicarrier making an appearance if the Director wasn’t kissing the Council’s ass right now. No matter what happened, though, Tony would prove his worth to Loki and ring truth to his words from earlier.

“You will proceed first,” Loki explained, crouching to one knee and leaning over the ledge. “Once you have their attention I will take my place on the roof and destroy their air born transportation. Keep the beast with you and dispose of Steve Rogers.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded, watching intently as the other male lifted back up to full height. A metallic hand outstretched to take a pale one and lifted it to his face, smiling as he kissed the man’s knuckles. “I won’t let you down.”

Dropping the hand, the golden faceplate snapped shut while Tony took a step backwards, carefully balancing himself on the ledge. With a two-finger salute he jumped, allowing himself to free-fall before stabilizing his velocity with the repulsors. The red and gold suit corkscrewed as he strafed between office buildings and apartment complexes, sensors dead set on the Stark Tower. He could sense Loki’s eyes on him, hear him in his head above the resisting screams of his conscious, _feel_ him and his magic coursing through his veins. A smile not his own crossed his face, brightened by the statistics lighting up the HUD two inches from him, and it closely resembled the twisted cruelty Loki was wearing several yards off, perched on the edge of the skyscraper.

“ _Captain Rogers_ ,” JARVIS called over the intercom.

Steve had taken up residence in one of the common room suites and for the last several hours watched as many different cover stories on the recent Iron Man and Loki fiascos as there were flavors of ice cream. Most of them were completely absurd, talking about the two of them actually becoming partners as if Tony wasn’t under the influence of a spell. The stocks for Stark Industries were plummeting to record lows, and Steve was sure Pepper Potts couldn’t care less about the company as she worried herself sick about Tony. There were theories about the Avengers falling apart after almost an entire year together, falling into the ranks of the villains, conspiring about who would be the next to go – Bruce Banner was a favorite given his extensive damage reports. JARVIS’s voice jolted him out of the land of lies and back to reality.

“Yeah?” He sounded tired, but he wouldn’t be in a few seconds.

“ _I have confirmation on the Iron Man suit Mark VII heading towards Avengers Tower._ ”

Steve practically leapt out of the sunken hole in the couch. “Where? What about Loki? Call the rest of the Avengers to assemble!” He scrambled for his gear.

“ _Southwest approaching at 70 knots, I am currently scanning the area for war criminal Loki Laufeyson, and already assembled, sir._ ”

As weird as it was talking to the ceiling sometimes, he had to admit that JARVIS was incredibly helpful at keeping things up and running when it came to crises.

“ _War criminal Loki Laufeyson is within the area of Manhattan, sir, but I cannot specify the exact location._ ” Something magical no doubt. “ _Tony Stark is westbound, 75 knots –_ ”

The building shook suddenly, trembled beneath Steve’s feet and he had to pause his actions to keep from falling over. There was a thunderous roar accompanied by a barrage of explosions; Banner. The Captain fumbled over to his gear, grabbing the earpiece first to radio in with the rest of the team. Natasha was shouting for Steve while simultaneously trying to keep whatever was left of the good doctor calm, but Clint’s signature string of curses was absent.

“Captain!”

“Here, I’m here, what happened?” He practically shouted over the radio waves.

There was a muddled growl in the background before the agent responded, “Stark just came flying through the lab while Bruce was down here. He startled him and – Bruce, please, calm down,” her voice lowered as she continued. “He’s going to change, I’m going to get him outside before he does anything too damaging – _Dr. Banner_!”

Static crowded the line before it ran dead, another fierce roar bellowing from the floors below.

“Tasha?” Clint called out, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Hawkeye, where are you?” Steve asked, grabbing his shield.

“Running up the damn fire escape to get to the roof because the fucking elevator isn’t working,” he growled, and the blonde shared his pain with a stressful sigh. “I’m going to shoot the bastard down.”

“To wound,” the all-American boy stressed, glancing out the wall of windows. “We’ll make sure to pick him up this time and not leave him.”

“Yeah whatever.”

“ _Barton_. That’s an order…” his stern voice trailed off into a disbelieving tone as he caught sight of Tony hovering outside the windows. Glowing, rectangular eyes held baby blue hues with inhuman determination before rocketing towards the glass, shattering it with his body, and tackling Captain America at the waist, flying them out the other side of the floor. Clint was calling out his name but the rush of wind and rockets drowned him out.

“Tony!” He shouted at the metal face, unmoving and uncaring. He was beyond reason, their talk on the Helicarrier proved that much, but Steve Rogers didn’t just _give up_ on people. Opening his mouth to speak again, an explosion cut him off before he could even start.

On the roof of Avengers Tower, a wide puff of smoke and flames erupted from their last working Quinjet. Steve twisted around in the suffocating grip around his waist, watching as the flames rose, snarling and licking and burning; he had no doubt in his mind that Loki was behind it. No sooner had he thought it did he see the man, clad in black and gold armor, practically dancing about the wreckage, moving to the next and last aircraft. Shoving his staff in front of him, the end began to glow with power and magic, but something caught his attention to his left, a glint of metal. Loki twisted his body, using his free hand to create a dagger to throw in Clint Barton’s direction. The assassin, hiding between the newly formed wreckage, jerked his upper body away from the flying weapon, cursing under his breath. Loki didn’t let up and sent two more raining horizontally towards the archer. The second was aimed at his head and Barton ducked, but the third lodged itself painfully in his thigh. He grunted but strung an arrow together and successfully barrel rolled away from a fourth knife threatening to sheathe itself in his chest. The arrow released with trembling force and narrowly missed the skull of the God. It stuck behind him, on the second aircraft, and exploded – you’d think a guy would learn after what happened the last time. The force shook the roof and threw Loki halfway across it, and despite that their two air born vehicles were now permanently grounded it was almost worth it as Clint glanced a look at the infuriated expression on the enemy’s face.

Meanwhile in the air, Tony look conflicted as he hesitantly hovered near the tower with Steve trying to talk sense into him. He knew Loki could handle himself and without aircrafts that left the man of iron with one less thing to worry about.

“Tony!” Steve called again.

_Stark…_ Loki’s voice hummed in his mind, calmed him, coddled him. He had a mission to finish.

Turning his mechanical head towards the blonde, he smiled cruelly behind the mask before dropping Captain America from 1,138 feet. He would’ve liked to take his time, savor the screams, the look on the man’s face when the last breath of life left him, but Tony did like to get things done quickly and efficiently. Even the super soldier couldn’t survive that fall – that was, of course, if he didn’t have a Hulk. That _damn_ beast!

With Agent Romanov clinging to his shoulder like a monkey, the Other Guy burst through the lab floor windows and caught Steve, much like how he’d caught Tony about a year ago when he fell from the portal hole above New York. Clutching the tiny red, white and blue man in one arm, the Hulk used the adjacent building as a cushion, smashing a hole into the side of it with his shoulder. Bruce would apologize for that later. Tony swore, shooting himself southbound towards the streets, aiming for the dead center of the green monster’s chest. Natasha had managed to climb down the mountainous arm, attempting to make her way towards Steve before red and gold metal zipped between them, throwing the Hulk down the avenue. As the behemoth skidded to a brutal stop, Tony spread the distance between them. He was about to throw a barrage of repulsor blasts at him but a familiar, mocking voice called behind the green mass.

“Over here, you blundering oaf,” Loki, or rather an illusion of the God, taunted with a cocky smile.

As planned, the Hulk erupted in rage, slamming both fists down into the now cracked concrete before bounding after the faux Loki. Tony would have to remember to thank the immortal later. Turning on his thrusters, the brunette spotted two friendlies several blocks down; Natasha Romanov and Steve Rogers. Time to get back to business. With boosters flaring the Iron Man sped down to the two ex-comrades. Thunder boomed uneasily in the sky above.

“Captain…” the Russian sounded uneasy, readying herself for contact, but Tony was on a projected path towards Steve.

He readied his shield, knowing it would only provide a weak cushion to the collision. “Ms. Romanov, if you can, reach Clint – he should be on the roof.”

“What about you?” She asked, shooting her gaze between Steve and Tony.

“You’ll get hit in the crossfire down here. I think you’d be a bigger help with Clint against Loki,” he looked at her apologetically, as if he had insulted her, but she knew how he could be.

With a curt nod she spared one last glare at Iron Man shooting down the avenue before sprinting towards the tower’s entrance. Steve kept his eyes on the speeding metal bullet heading towards him, bracing himself for the sudden impact of two repulsor blasts smashing against his shield. The defensive object repelled both the offensive material and the man himself in opposite directions. Skidding on his back against shattered glass and broken concrete, Steve rolled onto his feet, turning on his heels, and threw his shield at Tony. At his close range he didn’t strafe in time, earning himself a face full of Vibranium. It echoed inside his helmet and the brunette gritted his teeth in frustration. Again, the Captain picked up his shield and flung it, throwing it much like a Greek throws a discus, aiming at one of the rocket boosters on his legs. With a metallic clang, the shield hit and damaged the left leg, spiraling the air born man into a car. The alarm went off and with a frustrated thrust of his repulsors the car was silenced. Smoke rose from his leg, as well as a slight pinching burn but Tony ignored it. Practically snarling underneath his mask, the Iron Man lunged forward at Captain America, who braced himself with heels digging into the asphalt. They toppled backwards and the weight of the metal man kept Steve from throwing him up and over. He grunted, moving his shield to his chest while the other hand tore desperately at the gold faceplate. Looking up at his friend, he couldn’t help noticing the sky past him and how dark the clouds had suddenly become, brightening with vicious lightening.

“Tony!” He cried, pausing as Iron Man’s fist collided into the shield. It did nothing but press weight against his chest. “Tony please!”

Another punch and the shield reverberated. Steve could almost see the frustrated face Tony was making, the one he usually made when he couldn’t solve a scientific problem because he hadn’t slept or eaten in the last two days besides alcohol and caffeine. One more punch to the shield to try and crack it, and when he couldn’t – he should’ve known better, his _father_ had made this – Tony grabbed the edge and yanked it out of the blonde’s grasp, flinging it down the street. Steve watched it clatter against the ground loudly only to be brought back to his enemy’s attention when a cold, hard hand wrapped around his throat. He choked, both hands, now free, scratching at the metal helmet. He slammed his palms against it, tried to lift the heavy hand from his neck, used both knees to push Tony off but all was for naught as the metal man was like an immovable mountain.

“W-Why?!” He finally managed, tears blurring his vision.

The pressure on his trachea lifted, if only enough for a mouthful of air, before the faceplate finally flipped open. A giant crackle of thunder burst in the clouds and lightening outlined Tony in an unnerving way, the green flecks in his eyes almost outshining the chocolate brown. Steve failed to suppress a shiver.

“Why?” He hissed, pressed their faces close enough for the other man to hear him above the sirens in the distance and the carnage on the roof. “ _Why not?_ Jesus, Steve, we’ve been so _blind_! Loki has shown me – ”

“He’s shown you a lie!” Captain America interrupted and was rewarded with a rough smack against the concrete. His head was swimming from the impact and the lack of oxygen.

“He’s shown me the truth!” Tony barked back, almost in a voice that didn’t belong to him. It was heavy, dark, alien. “Loki is to be our _King_ and I his Knight, and his first order of business,” he paused to squeeze Steve’s neck once more. “Kill Captain America.”

Before the other man could retort, Iron Man hoisted him up from the ground and tossed him into the building next to them. Steve crashed through the windows and landed non-too gracefully on a receptionist’s desk.

“Nothing personal,” he replied wittily as his helmet clamped shut. “But we can’t go around disobeying our King, can we?”

Just as the billionaire raised his hand to fire at Steve a deafening shout of thunder echoed across the sky, an almighty sound that sounded all too familiar. The clouds above them swirled into what looked to be the beginnings of a tornado, strikes of bright blues and blinding white flashes crashing down on the street. The disturbance kicked up debris, the funnel sucking up the dirt and broken cement chunks, the car Tony landed on, and the shards of glass. Everything was chaotic noise, crunching metal and howling winds until one sound, one _very_ unfortunate sound, broke through.

The heavenly hum of a hammer.

Without warning, _the_ hammer, the one made for those of worth, shot out of the dust and smoke, making contact with the Iron Man suit. Metal crunched painfully in his side, while the organic body underneath would only bruise, as the metal man was thrown down the street. Mjolnir flew back to its owner, who emerged with such outrage written on his face he mimicked the unhealthy weather above. Sliding his hand down the hilt, he gripped the leather tassel that hung from it and swung the hammer over his head, ready for another strike. He opened his mouth to speak to his friend, a warning and a demand for an explanation, when a barrage of rockets fired from his shoulders. A risky move, considering his couldn’t fly straight, but Tony was _so_ close! The hammer’s swinging stilled to be thrust forward, lightening spider webbing from the flat head to destroy the rockets.

“Tony Stark!” Thor Odinson shouted with a mighty roar over the rumbling of the thunder in the sky. “What – ”

Several repulsor blasts shot forward, one of which knocked the blonde God in the shoulder, but he did not yield. As he kept his electric blue eyes on Tony, he kept himself aware of his surroundings for Loki, his brother, who mysteriously escaped his exile. The commotion on the roof of Avengers Tower had stopped upon Thor’s arrival.

“Enough!” The Norse God barked, hurling Mjolnir at the man of iron again. It beat him in the chest, dangerously close to the arc reactor, and the smell of ozone filled the air alongside the scent of heavy rain.

Thor barreled towards Iron Man as he fell back against the ground nearly gasping for air. Picking up the hammer, the Thunder God gripped Tony by the neck tightly, almost crushing the metal around him, and threateningly lifted the hammer over his head.

“Why have you turned against your comrades?” He growled, and before either of them could react a dagger sheathed itself neatly into Thor’s naked bicep. Without turning in the direction from which the weapon originated, he knew. “Loki…”

The butt end of the staff connected with Thor’s jaw, sending him stumbling back a bit and dropping Tony in a dazed heap. The God of Mischief put himself between the two, crouched low like a predator, like an animal, with his lips drawn back in a venomous hiss. Tony lifted the faceplate up to get a better look at the situation with his own eyes and caught sight of two arrows protruding from his should-be King; one out of his left shoulder and the other sticking out of his waist. He had lost the golden horned helmet at some point in battle. What Tony couldn’t see was a boot-sized bruise on the right side of his sharp cheekbone and an unattractive bloody nose.

“Loki,” Thor repeated, his tone caught between disappointment and anger. His features softened but he didn’t lower his hammer. “What have you done?”

“Just a bit of fun, brother,” Loki grinned, practically spitting out the faux sibling title.

“How did you escape?” He pressed, grip tightening on Mjolnir’s hilt.

Stormy winds howled through their silence, the sound of stampeding rain in the distance. Despite the looming shower, Loki grinned wider, threatening to split the vertical lines at his lips.

“You have such a way of ruining my fun, Thor,” he spoke as if he hadn’t heard the question. Lightening flashed, outlining the tense scene between the two Gods. “Tell me, why is it that you are always there whenever I could do without the sight of your smug face but can never find head or tail of you when most needed?”

“I am here now.”

“Yes and so my point is proven,” he sneered, stepping back to touch Tony but halted his motion when an arrow narrowly missed shooting through his hand and landed between the two men. Loki clearly hadn’t broken the archer’s arm enough.

Chancing a glance up at the roof, he heard another unfortunate sound – today was filled with those it seemed. The giant, booming footsteps of a vexed Hulk after tracking an illusion; it didn’t seem like they were going to teleport out of here before the rain hit.

“What did you do to Tony?” Steve’s shaken voice called out behind Thor, holding his bleeding side. There was a forming bruise around his neck, ugly black and purple markings in an abstract hand shape.

“ _Oh_ , you still live,” Loki lifted a dark eyebrow, twisting his head a quarter turn to glance at Tony. Never had the philanthropist felt more like a dog with his tail between his legs than he did now. “Is that not unfortunate.”

Turning back to the Thunderer, Loki felt the first bits of rain dropping down from the sky. Well then, today hadn’t gone as planned at all. As if to spite the raven-haired God, the sky opened up and torrential downpour occurred, soaking those caught outside in its fury. He kept a stubborn look upon his face but his stance relaxed, submitting – if only for now. He still had Tony, he still had his Knight.

“Loki?” He heard Tony behind him and felt a metal hand grip his own. When they didn’t teleport immediately, the brunette tugged questioningly.

“His magic is weakened,” it was Thor who responded, almost proudly, as he stepped forward to detain his brother. “Due to the water.”

Loki lashed out with a glowing hand, burning the outstretched appendage coming towards him. “Do not speak of it as if I have nothing left.”

Roughly, the blonde gripped the younger God by the hair, growling. He was growing rather impatient with his games. Behind Tony, the Hulk snatched the little metal man up as he scrambled to fire another barrage of rockets at Thor because Goddamn it, don’t take his stuff! Despite Bruce’s inner pleas, the Other Guy slammed the scientist hard against the pavement, knocking him senseless and quiet for the time being.


	8. Chapter 8

Avengers Tower, going by the blueprints designed by Tony Stark, wasn’t built to house a war criminal, especially not a God-like war criminal. Under Fury’s order, albeit paranoid ridden, the basement was reformed into a temporary holding cell should S.H.I.E.L.D. not be in the immediate vicinity. The walls were uncharacteristically grey and not Tony and the ceilings held irritatingly bright fluorescent lights. It was relatively empty save for a few metal boxes strewn in the corners, a wooden table, and a holding cell similar to the one on the Helicarrier; anti-magic field and all.

The tile flooring underneath squeaked as wet shoes trailed in from above. Thor led the way, thick fingers roughly intertwined in the damp black hair of his younger not-brother. Steve followed along with a slight limp in his step, an arm slung around his middle to hold the painful bruises flourishing after his fight with Iron Man. The Hulk brought up the rear, cradling Tony and his metal shell in one large arm. His anxiety about Loki kept him on edge and inside Bruce couldn’t ignore the protectiveness he felt holding his friend. The blonde mortal walked slowly, but with determination, to the control panel near the cell. Structured similarly to the one on the Helicarrier, Steve fiddled with the keys to open the lock-encoded cell for Thor to shove Loki in, the Plexiglas door sliding shut with a hiss behind him. The God of Mischief looked around his new cage, noting how it lacked the furnishing of at least a low-sitting protruding shelf to use as a seat. Glass surrounded him but he knew better, his magic – rainwater aside – wouldn’t pass through; another example of Tony’s brilliant handiwork. He lifted a slim eyebrow as he lolled his head over his shoulder to stare uninterestingly at Thor. Behind him, the green beast set the man of iron on the table, visibly more relaxed now that Loki had been contained.

“Agent Barton, Romanov, do you copy?” Steve called over the radio, stepping back from the console and warily over to Tony.

There was a moment of pause before Natasha answered, sounding rather relieved to hear the Captain’s voice. “I copy. Barton, don’t try and – ”

“ _Shit_!”

“Is everything alright?” The American pressed.

“We’re fine,” she replied swiftly and there was another pause followed by static and shuffling. “A bit beat up, but we’re alive. Where are you now?”

“The basement. Loki is detained,” he shot a quick glare at the God. “And Tony is unconscious.”

“Awesome,” Clint huffed. “Please tell me the elevators are working.”

“ _The lift is already at the top floor, sir, and in working order_ ,” JARVIS answered.

As the Avengers tried to reassemble themselves, Loki paced around the edge of the cylindrical cell, eyes never leaving the red and gold mechanical body on the table. His face gave away nothing, slack and stoic, a mystery to Thor. He pleaded with his blue hues but Loki refused to look at him until the Thunder God stood in his line of sight.

“Loki, what have you done?” He asked in a low, but still resounding voice. Whether he was referring to Tony, how he’d escaped, or his fiascos around the world Loki wasn’t sure and didn’t care to answer either way. When silence was thrown his way, Thor tried again with a more urgent tone in his voice, “ _Brother_.”

Behind him, the Hulk was shrinking back down to his original size; deep greens paling into tanned skin, rugged and sleep ridden face emerging from behind the rage. Bruce just managed to grab the shredded, stretched pants before they fell at his ankles.

“Uhm,” the doctor coughed to grab Steve’s attention. When the blonde turned to him, he continued, “Mind if I change?”

“No, I’m sure Thor and I can handle it if Tony comes to,” the Captain nodded, returning his attention to the radio, speaking to the two assassins.

“Oh, of course,” Loki sneered but no one paid him any mind.

As Bruce hurried out to find an extra pair of pants, at least, if not another shirt, the raven-haired male began picking at the arrows still protruding rudely from him at unique angles. The one in his shoulder, first, as it skewed his peripheral and with a solid jerk of his hand the arrow slid out through flesh and leather. Next he wrapped his fingers around the one at his waist; the tip had blossomed outward so when someone pulled it out, it clawed against the grain. Loki gave it a sharp tug and suppressed a hiss when the jagged edges snagged against his skin. He could feel it, clinging to him desperately, tearing angrily at his enflamed wound. Again, another sharp tug and while the weapon was free the open hole gaped widely at him, spilling blood over his tunic and pants. Dropping the cursed rod, Loki put a hand over the wound and tried his magic; nothing. A dark, angry frown twisted onto his face. While it would heal on its own accord, quicker than that of a mortal’s metabolism – except Steve’s perhaps – it was still a pained nuisance.

“Director Fury is on his way,” Steve said to Thor, who was still eyeing his brother carefully. “He’ll transport Loki to their base.”

“No,” the blonde God argued, releasing Loki from his gaze to stare at the American. “I will take him back to Asgard.”

“No offense, but clearly that didn’t do a lot of good the last time we let you take him,” the Captain countered. “Besides, he’s not going anywhere until he fixes Tony.”

Thor shrugged. “I agree, he must fix the man of iron, but afterwards…” he trailed off, unsure if he should repeat himself.

“What more can the All-Father do if not send me back to whence I escaped?” Loki interjected with an irritable hiss.

“He offered you a _choice_!” The thunder rumbled angrily outside. “And you _chose_ to keep silence.”

“He offered me banishment in two forms,” the other corrected. “ _He_ chose the lesser of two evils. Since silence could not restrain me, would you allow him to send me into the bowels of Asgard? Rot in the dungeons while you visit like some long lost friend when you are finished playing lapdog?”

“At least you would be home!” Yelling, always yelling.

“That place is _not_ my home!”

Steve began to back away towards Tony, who seemed less and less dangerous in his unconscious state than the two bickering Gods before him. He hadn’t seen Thor this worked up since the Chitauri incident, after he’d taken his brother home and not spoken of him again. No one asked either, not because they lacked interest but out of sheer respect for a man who’d lost a brother, be it not by blood but years of love. To have it destroyed by a lie had wounded them both, Steve could see that, and where one tried to mend and fix the other rebelled and resisted. He looked away from the two men and turned his attention to Tony. The faceplate had broken off when the Other Guy slammed him against the concrete and knocked him unconscious, leaving his face uncovered. The left leg had ceased smoking and simply sizzled with loose and broken wires. The suit’s arc reactor glowed fiercely underneath the protective glass, signaling the suits functionality, and Steve put a hand over it. He was at a legitimate loss at what to do; he’d hit Tony in the face and he still wasn’t normal – so what then? Something deeper, some spell that couldn’t be overlooked just by causing a slight concussion, something that quite possibly they wouldn’t be able to fix without Loki’s help. That had a good one in a zillion chances of happening; in fact, the raven-haired God voiced it as he caught sight of the blonde soldier attending to the billionaire.

“He is _lost_ to you!” He laughed darkly. “He is _mine_ and you will _never_ have him back!”

Steve curled his fingers on the reactor into a tight fist. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh, am I?” Loki faked astonishment, grinning afterwards. “When he wakes, he will kill you, and would you believe not because I asked it of him, but _he_ asked _me_ to? Stark practically begged me to let him kill one of you.”

“Liar!” Steve shouted and Loki laughed again, almost hysterical.

“Such lost creatures…” he muttered, turning his back on both of them.

Thor uneasily twisted the hilt of his hammer in his hand, watching as his brother sat himself in the farthest corner, flinching slightly at the open wound at his waist. He turned to Steve and carefully dropped Mjolnir.

“We should strip him of his armor,” the God suggested and the other agreed with a silent nod.

“He might be a little angry that we trashed his suit but… he can fix it. His life is worth more than his suit, he’ll understand,” Steve said.

Thor placed himself next to the iron suit and lifted his hands hesitantly above it. “Where… should I start?”

“Probably his helmet?”

Here were two people who had a year’s worth of experience with modern day technology trying to dismantle one of the world’s most complex piece of machinery made by the unstable, unconscious man in the room. Loki stifled his insane laughter at the thought because he knew how Thor would go about doing this – recklessly. And as careful and cautious as the man looked to be approaching this, when his fingers gripped the helmet metal screamed and wires cried fiery sparks as he pulled and bent away the titanium alloy much like someone peeling an orange. Steve lifted the man’s head carefully out of the destroyed carnage that used to be his helmet. Without it, the Captain caught sight of the bruise on his face from when Loki had backhanded him a couple days ago. It blossomed out on raised skin on his left cheekbone, a deep purple in the center fading out to pale blues. The right side of his neck was also discolored, a bite mark at his pulse and a trail of red circles that disappeared underneath his suit. Steve let his fingers brush over them, feeling the smooth rivets of skin healing from a wound, a bite. Underneath, there came the steady beat of his pulse, twitching frantically like a caged hummingbird. Too quick for someone who was supposedly unconscious.

Tony took a sharp intake of breath before Steve could call out a warning to Thor. With the palm of his right hand angled upwards, he let loose a repulsor blast that shot the God in the shoulder. He jerked backwards, leaving the Captain to hold the man down. He grabbed at the metal man’s wrists, but Stark was thrashing much too erratically to keep a firm hold. His left arm pulled itself out of the loose grasp and slapped Steve across his lower jaw. The right hand followed and Tony pushed himself off the table.

Loki began to laugh. A quiet and dark sound at first, spilling from his lips slowly before it elevated in volume and twisted into shrill hysteria. The convulsion at his abdomen irritated the wound, but not enough to silence him. Thor shot him a pained look before snatching up his hammer. With a twist of his entire body, the golden God swung it towards Tony and Loki fought hard to keep the worry from spreading across his manic expression. It hit the man square in the chest, causing the air to leave his lungs as he flew into the back wall. Between the beating on the arc reactor and his unprotected head, this wasn’t going to end well by any means. Steve seemed to pick up on that as Thor swung his hammer around on the leather tassel.

“Careful!” He ordered and the velocity of the humming weapon slowed. “Knock him out so we can get the rest of his suit off.”

“Yes, Thor,” Loki mocked. “Do take care not to kill your friend. Although, dear Captain, it would not be the first he let his strength _slip_.”

His tone felt like ice and it had Thor turning to his brother with pained eyes. It was an irrelevant distraction for Tony to come back at them with a handful of shots from his palm. They weren’t as strong as they’d been before and he could only guess, with the lack of JARVIS’s voice keeping track, that his suit was losing power both from excessive use and Thor’s insensitive attacks. Despite that, the two men hadn’t been ready for it and fell on their backs, chests aching with from the counterattack.

“Get me out!” Loki hissed, still dripping water off the tips of his curled hair. His hand tightened its grip around his waist as he lifted himself from where he once sat. “Hurry.”

Tony made his way over to the control panel, fiddling with it to open the sliding glass door at once. His vision swam and he could feel the warm trickle of blood on the back of his head, but nothing overrode his want, his _need_ , to free Loki and get them to safety. The panel opened and Loki trudged out, hunched over slightly as he held his side. Tony’s eyes flicked to the bleeding opening and before he could say anything of it, the God was waving his hand in dismissal.

“Can you fly?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at the two blondes. They began to stir and it wouldn’t be long before they followed.

Between the dull pain in his head and his broken booster, Tony half shrugged in a vague answer. Once they got out of the basement, maybe he could fly them off somewhere to rest, but…

The ding of the elevator interrupted his train of thought. The door cracked open only an inch and Tony already held the foresight to push Loki out of the way, knocking him to the floor. An arrow whistled through the air, targeted at the God but lodged itself in the middle of the glowing blue light at the suit’s chest. The protective case cracked and the light flickered before shutting off completely. Clint couldn’t hide the small look of surprise that crept onto his face, and behind him Natasha was unreadable. Once Steve and Thor worked their way up on two feet, the mortal shot the archer a sharp look that faltered only slightly when Tony let out a loud sigh.

“It’s fine,” he spoke to Loki, almost oblivious to the rest of the team watching. “It’s just the suit.”

It was the farthest thing from fine, considering they really had no way of escaping now. The God of Mischief could feel his magic returning, slowly, and with what he had he’d be lucky if he could teleport just one of them back to the hideout. Despite their situation, Tony didn’t stand down. Rolling his greenish brown eyes to the Avengers, he stuck out a hand to the God to help pull him up. Loki accepted the help, even allowed the brush of lips on his knuckles because the look on Tony’s ex-comrades’ faces was completely worth it. What he did not approve of came afterwards when Tony pushed the immortal aside, creating a human barrier between him and the others. They were in a rut but the brunette refused to give up; a valiant effort, really, Loki had to admit. He put a hand on the metal shoulder, if only just to keep physical contact.

“Stand down,” Clint’s hardened voice ground out, readying another arrow. His shoulder was screaming at him as he pulled back, but he bit his tongue and bore it.

Tony took the arrow’s shaft in his hand and plucked it from the spitting wires at his chest. He was beginning to regret crafting the man revised arrow tips. “Not a chance.”

“I’m not going to ask again,” the archer lifted his weapon up, but Steve interjected.

“Agent Barton…” he warned, and when nobody moved the tension thickened. “ _Barton_.”

“He’s compromised Steve, you heard Fury,” his spoke to the Captain, but his eyes never lost sight of the enemies in front of them. “If it comes down to it – ”

“ _If_ it comes down to it – ”

“And what is this, a staring contest?” Clint barked. “Stand the fuck down, or I’ll shoot.”

The arrow was raised and aimed right between the billionaire’s eyes and neither one made a move. Loki’s eyes flicked from the agent, to Tony, to his arc reactor and back up at Clint. Their eyes locked for a second.

“Stark,” the God whispered. He slid his hand across his shoulder and towards the naked neck, tracing the hickeys with a finger. “We lack the upper hand. Enough.”

It took a few more seconds for the muscles in Tony’s body to relax and obey the man’s command. He lolled his head back, leaning against his collarbone to stare up at the God, his King. He’d disappointed him, like he promised not to. If it hadn’t been for Thor this wouldn’t have happened. The hand at his neck dragged against his skin and buried its fingers into the ruffled tuffs of brown hair.

“I failed you,” Tony offered a melancholy half grin.

Loki’s free hand came away from his bloodied waist to curl underneath the man’s arm, hand pressed against the cracked arc reactor of the suit. His fingers left smeared red prints. “Not entirely.”

Not entirely, he still had faith in him, and the thought made Tony smile inwardly. Pulling his attention away from Loki, the brunette straightened up to look at the rest of the occupants in the room. The pair of assassins were unreadable as always, Steve oozed anxiety, and Thor looked as if he might bring the tower down himself.

“Fine, you win,” Tony shrugged, holding up his hands in a physical sign of defeat.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

The amount of tension at Avengers Tower was nothing compared to what Director Fury brought with him. It rivaled the swirling thunderstorm outside, no thanks to Thor’s inability to calm himself, and looked capable of wringing Tony’s neck dry with the mere thought of the action. He stood with his hands behind his back, still as stone in front of the holding cell while Tony and Loki disregarded his presence. The brunette was sprawled on the floor, lying on his back as he stared at the ceiling. His Iron Man suit had been peeled away with the help of Thor and Steve. Calloused, overworked fingers tapped idly on his abdomen to a tune only he could hear. Loki sat adjacent to him, legs crossed at the ankles with his back against the glass. His hands were folded neatly in his lap, and every so often he would let one stray to Tony’s ruffled strands because he knew how much it bothered the Avengers. His magic hummed inside of him, trapped without an outlet, but he kept his calm with deep, even breathes through the nose. Fury was nothing more than another bothersome bystander looking in from the outside.

Upstairs, the rest of the team looked on through the video feed. Dr. Banner looked after Clint’s damaged shoulder, thrumming with pain from overuse and bruising. Natasha took care of herself, setting an icepack on her lower back as well as binding a particularly nasty gash below her right breast in gauze. A few bruises formed on Steve’s back and right arm, not to mention the metal slap from earlier, but he ignored the pain, knowing his accelerated metabolism would take care of it. There were more important matters to deal with, like the fact Tony and Loki were held prisoner in their basement under the scrutinizing gaze that was Nick Fury.

_He will kill you… he asked me to._ Loki’s mocking tone filled his mind until he practically drowned in uncertainty. It couldn’t be the real Tony; something was definitely different about him, other than the obvious problem. His eyes, when they fought in the street, had been such a vivid mixture of green and brown. They flashed with glassy reflection, full of determination and ferocity and, above all, magic.

“Thor,” the blonde turned in his chair to face the God, who looked up from his brooding. “Does Loki know how to control someone’s mind without the staff?”

“He is versed with a silver tongue, unmatched in persuasion and lies, but without magic I fear he could not control Tony Stark completely,” he answered, staring hard at the live video streaming from the cell. “I am unacquainted with spells, especially not to the degree of Loki’s knowledge, and I am unsure as to how he accomplished such a task.”

“His eyes were green,” Steve said, before continuing with specificity. “Tony’s, I mean. Like the magic was inside of him.”

Thor shrugged. “It is not unheard of to filter a spell through the body, but to do so is difficult. One must part with a piece of themself and is greatly weakened, but it binds the two together...” he paused, humming. “It must be sewn through the heart, and does Tony Stark not brag of when Loki failed to take his heart?”

 The Captain pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodding. He turned to the camera, watching the three men sit in thick silence. Eyeing the glowing arc reactor, Steve thought back to when Clint aimed his weapon at it, how Loki nonchalantly pulled his hand around to cover the reactor with it, how he’d given up so easily _again_. The arc reactor…

“Dr. Banner,” Steve called out distantly, staring hard at the pixilated glow. “When you’re finished tending to everyone’s wounds, what can you tell me about Tony’s arc reactor?”

In the cell, Loki finally lolled his head to meet Fury’s one eye. It’s a little funny, and ironic really, because this feeling was familiar. Scrutinized under a one-eyed gaze, unspoken punishment lingering in the air, trapped. But there lacked the golden city to surround him, the broken eyes of Thor and his mother’s quiet plea, but he had Tony. The philanthropist was humming the tune aloud now, fingers tapping against the beat. Loki didn’t recognize it, but Fury knew the song as _You Shook Me All Night Long_ by AC/DC. Cute.

“Mr. Stark,” the one-eyed man finally spoke, and surprisingly not to the God. While Loki was a lost cause on answers that were anything but cryptic, Tony wasn’t any better – mind controlled or not – when it came to talking with the Director. “Do you mind explaining why you’re gallivanting around with an escaped war criminal?”

Tony took his time, finishing the chorus before twisting his head up to look at Loki. He silently asked permission and when the God gave a nod, the mortal answered.

“Because it’s fun,” he grinned at the ceiling. “Although I’m sure the answer you’re looking for is Loki mind controlled me and I don’t know what I’m doing. But that’s not entirely true; I do know what I’m doing. I know what I – or we rather – are doing is wrong in the eyes of society and blah, blah, blah. But when you see it from my end, our end, it makes perfect sense.”

Fury tilted his head up. “Does it?”

“Yeah, but if I tried explaining it to you, you wouldn’t understand. You’re too ignorant, you don’t know what I know, what Loki’s shown me.”

“The same thing he showed Agent Barton, I’m sure.”

“No,” Tony finally turned to look at the other man. “So much more than the Tesseract.”

“A pack of lies, Mr. Stark. That’s all he’s ever shown anyone.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” The brunette furrowed his brow and looked up at Loki, who quirked a smile in his direction. “Yeah, okay, Loki _Liesmith_ and God of _Lies_ but why should he be obligated to tell the truth when no one’s shown him the same respect?”

That wasn’t fair, Thor thought, he didn’t know. He’d been lied to as well and he harbored no ill will towards his parents. Of course, it was different for someone like Loki, the shadow, the trickster, the _monster_.

“I don’t suppose either one of you will tell me how this happened?” Fury’s brows pinched together expectantly.

Loki didn’t reply and Tony laughed before continuing on with the rest of his song. Of course not. He sighed, walking off to the sound of Led Zeppelin’s _Stairway To Heaven_ being whistled in an off key. Eventually he would detain them, fly them to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s base and pry the information out of them. They had no need to kill Tony now that he was in custody and warranted docile without his suit. Loki on the other hand was a different matter all together. Fury would have to work something out with Thor, but for now he needed to debrief who was left and plan their next move.

The basement fell into silence, save the pitchy whistling coming from the brunette. It was soothing, oddly enough, this Midgardian music Tony chose to fill the air with. He could only guess how unnerved the Avengers were listening to their comrade calmly sing his tune as he sat next to a war criminal. The thought curled the ends of his lips. Eventually, the song ended after a good eight minutes or so, and the cell fell silent once more. With a careful tilt, Loki looked upward towards the ceiling, imagining how the conversation must be going between the group of heroes and their Director.

“Stark,” his voice sounded loud in the vacuum-sealed room. “Why did you build this tower?”

Tony situated himself so he could look up at the God without straining his neck back too far. “Self-obsessed, mostly. Otherwise putting my name in the clean energy pool – ah, well puddle really, not too many people are into it. All of the buildings that belong to Stark Industries run off their own power source. Now it works as Avengers Headquarters, but that was an afterthought after your… flashy arrival.”

Loki chuckled. “I see. Stark Industries; a family business?”

“Yeah,” and the answer was too short, too vague for the talkative Tony Stark.

“You do not seem proud of your family’s achievements, to inherit something so prestigious,” genuine confusion laced his words. “Why?”

Despite being under Loki’s control, he felt the familiar discomfort settling in to the pit of his stomach. “Long story short, daddy issues.”

The God fought between bitter laughter and humble pity. “We are going no where.”

Tony fidgeted in the silence before reluctantly divulging. “It’s not like I don’t want Stark Industries, and I’ve bettered it, you know? We made our fortune off of weaponry and once I saw what it was actually doing to the world, I put an end to it. So now I’m streamlining clean energy while privatizing world peace with Iron Man. It isn’t my inheritance that’s the problem, because let’s face it I’ve got the three basics needs of life,” he paused to grin up at Loki. “Wealth, sex, and fame. Yes, I’m proud of Stark Industries and what I’ve shaped it into, it’s just…”

He trailed off, wrinkling his face with an expression of vexation. “Would my dad be proud of what I’ve done? Like, I know that seems kind of stupid to ask given what I’ve done the past several years but you just can’t be too sure with a man like my father. I felt like just another one of his creations that failed him along the way, lost in my dad’s shadow of succession.”

Loki blinked, eyes slightly widened with shock but he gave nothing more away. The infamous Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, was wondering if his father would be _proud_ of his accomplishments? How absurd! That would be like Thor asking Odin if he was proud of him. His fist curled, the humble pity dying in the white knuckled grip, but with a deep breath it loosened. As laughable as it sounded, it did strike a cord of familiarity. Lost in a shadow, a failed relic, always fighting for that one spark of light, of recognition, of redemption. His fingers tightened again. How ironic.

“What about you?” Tony interrupted the tall man’s thoughts, and for that he was grateful. “What’s with the obscene family hatred?”

Loki snorted. “They are not my family. They are but a few who pitied a monster. They are fools, everything last one…” he interrupted himself with silence, brows furrowed. No, not every last one of them. “Perhaps Mother is redeemable if only because she is the only sensible Aesir on that cursed realm.”

“Yeah, my mom was pretty awesome too,” the brunette smiled. “She treated me like a kid, you know, not like some brainy genius. Even if I was, it’s nice to be treated like a kid every once in a while. Read me bedtime stories, told me to clean my room, made me smiley-faced pancakes – the works.”

Tony swore he saw the slightest glimpse of a smile on the God’s face, but it vanished in the blink of an eye. She’d read him stories of warriors and magic and mythical beasts, scolded him when he didn’t put his tomes away, and sat outside in the palace gardens with him to eat lunch while Thor fumbled around in the dirt with his friends. As they grew older and they were children no longer, Loki would find other ways of grabbing her attention. He remembered once, after Thor’s coming of age celebration and the golden son had had more than enough of his fill of attention, Loki turned the banners lining the hallways into serpents. He’d expected Thor to come bumbling around the corner with his friends, but instead it was Frigga and her handmaidens. The youth scurried out with a twist of his wrist to get rid of them, an explanation – a lie – on the tip of his tongue as to why they’d been there, but Frigga only smiled at him, all knowing and all loving. She curled her arms around his shoulders, he’d gotten so tall, and whispered softly _my little hero_. Her little hero, under false pretenses, but it hadn’t bothered him, and it still didn’t pinch a nerve when she repeated the scenario after he thwarted Laufey before he murdered Odin. Now it burned like a thousand embers; must he always _lie_ to be something of worth?

“Do you miss her?” Tony asked.

Loki swallowed down a hard knot. “Yes.”

“Me too.”

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

S.H.I.E.L.D. issued two more Quinjets in order to haul a one certain war criminal and another unstable comrade to their Headquarters. While Loki calmly allowed Thor to bind him with the metal contraptions – but he had to wonder how many they had just lying around – Tony put up more of a fuss when Steve came around with normal handcuffs. Natasha stood by with her gun in hand, safety off, and next to her Fury settled his hand on the butt of his own 9mm. Clint and Bruce situated themselves in the back. The archer sported a sling around his arm and didn’t hide his disagreeable mood about it.

“If we’re not talking here, what the hell makes you think we’ll say anything more at your base?” Tony growled, dodging Roger’s attempt at snatching his wrist. “And for the record, I’m hurt you’ve never officially invited me – did you go to the opening ceremony of their new shindigs, good ol’ boy?”

“We’re inviting you now,” Fury raised an eyebrow. “And your little _dog_ too.”

Loki spared a languid glance in the one-eyed man’s direction, mouth muzzled and wrists bound. Lolling his head to the side, he watched with as much of an amused expression as he could manage as Tony sat on his hands. How childish, yet a chuckle reverberated in his throat. Steve lost his temper and gripped the brunette by the hair, lifting him up with ease and slamming his front against the glass.

“Jeez, Steve,” he huffed, attempting to wriggle his wrists out of the man’s iron grip. “Buy me dinner first.”

By the time the two men were bound and halfway up the tower, riding the elevator to the roof, Fury threatened on putting the mouthpiece over Stark’s face too.

The Quinjets, with difficulty, landed between the wreckage of the other two aircrafts Loki had destroyed. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the rain had calmed to a gentle drizzle, almost like falling mist. The sight of two vehicles for transportation concerned the two men in custody, although Tony should’ve known better. Clint, Bruce, and Steve headed to one, Tony in tow, and Loki was dragged to the opposing Quinjet with Thor, Natasha, and Fury.

“Hey, _hey_!” The brunette resisted against Steve’s hold on his forearms, eyes flashing a vivid mix of green and brown. Even Loki made aware of his displeasure towards the situation as he dug his heels into the cement.

With a frustrated sigh, Steve hooked an arm around the shorter man’s waist and hoisted him over his shoulder. Tony kicked his legs out and slammed his knees into the blonde’s chest, wiggling and fidgeting in the not-so-dignified hold. The Captain took his free arm and captured the flailing legs with a tight hold behind his knees, keeping them flush against his chest. It didn’t stop the man from attempting to worm his way out and shouting obscenities at the top of his lungs as he watched Thor roughly handle his brother into the other Quinjet.

“Strap him into the seat before he hurts himself,” Clint said gruffly, backing into the co-pilot seat.

Bruce fumbled with the clips as Steve set the man down, hands like steel around his biceps. He stole a glance at the brunette in front of him and couldn’t ignore the manic look in his eyes, the green, the magic swirling around, eating at him. Was Tony still in there? With a twitch of his lips, the engineer threw himself forward and bit Steve in the shoulder, hard enough to draw blood underneath the white shirt he’d opted to change in to. Perhaps he should’ve left his suit on. Steve yelped, more so out of surprise at the fact that Tony just _bit_ him, and threw the man off of him, into the waiting seat. Banner strapped him in as quick and efficiently as he could over the fidgeting body before attending to the circle of teeth marks embedded in Steve’s shoulder.

“We ready back there?” Barton called back over his shoulder.

“Yeah, let’s go!” It was Bruce who answered, eyeing Tony carefully from the side.

“You think your theory will work?” The blonde spoke low, out of earshot of the brunette.

“It’s worth a shot, yeah,” the doctor shrugged. “I took what I needed from his workshop, we’ll be prepared for the worst.” He patted his handbag at his hip and nodded reassuringly to the Captain.

“I hope so.”


	9. Chapter 9

The Quinjet holding the two Norse Gods and the two master assassins landed before Captain Rogers managed to deliver Tony Stark because said billionaire couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He grated on Banner’s nerves in an attempt to bring out the Other Guy, tried to ruffle Steve’s feathers by bringing up his past, and succeeded in badgering Barton into practically throttling him if Steve hadn’t restrained him. The pilot stopped a handful of times to hover, worried that Bruce might change or Clint would lose his temper again. Fury should have given them an extra muzzle. When they did manage to land, Steve accompanied the brunette out the back of the aircraft leaving the doctor and archer to bring up the rear.

The landing pad itself was impressive; it was a half dome that opened from the top like an eyelid, letting in the aircrafts and closing with an airtight hiss. There were a good two dozen Quinjets in the hangar, as well as plenty of other S.H.I.E.L.D. issued aircrafts situated to the sides. Tony noticed the missing team members almost immediately and gave the blonde man a sideways glance.

“Are we fashionably late?” He teased with a hint of seriousness to his tone. Where was Loki?

“No thanks to you,” Steve answered, pulling the man along the large area. He headed towards a metal door guarded by two agents and a code box on the right-hand side. Nodding to the two men, he said, “We’re here to deliver Mr. Stark to the medical bay under the orders of Director Fury.”

One of them nodded back to him and turned to punch a gloved finger into the number pad. Tony looked inquisitively at the Captain.

“Medical bay?” He asked as he was pulled through the now open doors.

The hallways were narrow and shiny and sterile and just begging to be ruined. The lights above were dim, Tony was sure it was simply for the atmosphere of secrecy, and guards stood at attention every few yards with semi-automatics gripped tightly in their hands. Save for the squeaking of sneakers against waxed floors, the hallway remained quiet and the brunette’s question unanswered. It went relatively civil until there came a fork in the hallway, things got ugly soon after.

“Agent Barton, come in,” Fury’s disembodied voice graced their presence, but the background noise that accompanied him unnerved them.

Clint quickly held down the button on his radio. “I copy, sir, I’m on my way.”

“What was that?” Tony fidgeted in Steve’s hold.

Radio silence until Fury answered with a dark, chilling chuckle. “You mean this?”

Above the static came a blood curdling scream, wordless and raw but familiar. Tony suppressed a shiver.

“Loki?” His name was a ghost of a whisper on his lips.

“Turn it off Barton,” Steve ordered and Clint obliged, snapping the signal off with a turn of a knob.

“Loki!” Steve wrenched the brunette down the right hallway, Banner in tow. Clint briskly made his way down the left. “ _Loki_! What are they doing to him?”

When neither man answered, Tony grew a bitter grin. “Torture? You’re torturing him? Is that what the good ol’ American boy has been reduced to? And _you_ ,” he snapped his head to Bruce, digging his heels into the floor. “You know damn well they’d torture you if they weren’t so afraid of the Other Guy. But you’re willing to let another take your place? Because you’re on the ‘good guy’ side? Tch, you’re more of a monster than your alter ego!”

Tony pulled himself roughly from Steve’s grip to chase after Clint, but the doctor caught him with an arm looped at the bend of his elbow. Rogers mimicked the hold on the other side and together they dragged the billionaire kicking and screaming and doing everything in an attempt to slow them down or let him go.

“I will _kill_ you Steve!” He snarled. “And it won’t be quick; I’ll draw it out long and painful. Your serum will keep you on the up and up until I finish you off. And I’ll fling _you_ into a wormhole!” Tony shot an icy glare at Bruce. “Do you think the monster needs air to breath? I’m sure Loki would enjoy that, he hates you the most. But _Steve_ ,” his voice flew up into a singsong tone. “Oh Steve, you’ll be all mine, I will _break you_! I will have you begging for me to stop and – ”

Before either one of them could register, Dr. Banner’s fist came across Tony’s face with a smack that echoed through the now silence hallway. Steve looked up and could actually see the rage flitter behind his normally calm brown eyes, and when their fellow comrade quieted in his unconscious state the Other Guy flickered away.

“Sorry,” Bruce pressed his lips together in a thin line. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to, Steve or Tony, but it didn’t matter. What was done was done.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Tony’s voice echoed down the hallway and eventually faded as Clint furthered his distance between himself and the others. A far off scream filled the silence instead, muffled by inches of Plexiglas and thick metal walls. The archer slipped through checkpoint after checkpoint, briskly making his way deeper into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s base. When it came time for the last set of doors, the screaming stopped, but only for a moment while Director Fury cycled through his three questions.

How did you escape exile?

What were you trying to achieve?

“How can we fix Mr. Stark?” Clint heard Fury ask as he walked in after gaining clearance.

The room was compact and the muted lighting swallowing up the dark corners created the illusion that the space was nearly cramped. An egg-shaped structure, one of many in the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, known for the use of unsanctioned methods of interrogation with empty, dark metal walls and a cylindrical Plexiglas tube in the center. After the incident in Manhattan when Tony constructed the anti-magic handcuffs and mouthpiece, Fury ordered him to build anti-magic cages and other commodities to combat another crazed God from outer space – just in case, of course. The structure that had once been built to house a certain green doctor had been rebuilt time and time again with a ceiling laced with the same technology used in the cuffs and gag. They hadn’t had to use it since Loki had been taken back to his permanent, or so they thought, exile.

The God of Mischief unceremoniously dropped to his knees in the center of the cage, fingers clawing haphazardly at his neck, at a silver collar wrapped tightly around his throat. Long, red scratches from his fingernails decorated the pale expanse of flesh as he desperately yanked at the contraption. He paid no mind to Fury and his questions, or the redhead behind him, or Clint coming up behind her, or Thor quietly leaning in a dark corner with his arms crossed at his chest, muscles tense and face solemn. When the Director felt the silence had rung loud enough, his hand moved to a small control panel at his left and a finger pressed in a quarter-sized red button. The collar let off a soft _beep_ before sending a painful coarse of electricity through Loki’s neck and spread. A white hot searing pain threaded into his veins and muscles and had him twitching unconsciously as he continued his attempt at destroying the metal device. His eyes blurred with unshed tears as the shocks tore through him. He ground his teeth together in an effort to hold in a scream, his dignity, but a keen whining grew in his throat. Fury finally released the button, folding his hands behind his back, and watched as the exhausted God sank to his elbows, forehead leaning against the cool metal ground.

“How did you escape exile?” He repeated for the umpteenth time, voice distance and rough.

He let the obvious silence fill the space before opening his mouth again to repeat question two when Loki seemed to make a noise that may have been words. When no one spoke, the raven-haired male picked up his head up and repeated himself, wild eyes turning to the God swallowed by darkness.

“Thor…” he spoke weakly. His throat felt scratchy and dry and he paused to swallow before calling out once more. “ _Thor_ ….”

“What were you trying to achieve?” Fury asked, blinking his attention to Thor for a moment before coming back to Loki.

The God dragged himself across the floor, as degrading as it was on his hands and knees. “Thor, do n-not – ”

“How can we fix Mr. Stark?”

“ – do not let them do this to me!”

The Thunder God wouldn’t look up, he knew it would be his undoing to see Loki _begging_. Still, the mere sound of his voice made him clench his fingers into fists and furrow his brow with the physical strain to ignore him. It was for his own good, he couldn’t let the younger God think that just because Thor loved him unconditionally that he wouldn’t allow some greater punishment for his deeds. The soft _beep_ came and Loki let a scream erupt, the blonde’s very name on his lips. Fury counted to ten before letting his finger come away from the button.

“I can do this all day, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“How…” he practically cried, reaching a hand up to the glass, reaching for Thor. “How can you stand there and let them do this?”

“Just answer any one of the questions and we’ll give you a break.”

“You would pick these mortals over your own family?” That got his attention. Electric blue eyes shot upwards and met pitiful, wet green hues.

Fury repeated his question and Loki pleaded with his eyes to Thor, slammed his hand against the glass with a dull thud, and Natasha could already see the resolve draining from their comrade.

“Thor…”

“What were you trying to achieve?”

Thor anxiously looked from Loki to Fury, back to Loki and stayed glued to the distraught, frantic expression that played on his tear-stricken face. Both Natasha and Clint hand their hands on their guns, unclipping the straps to rest their palms on the butt of them.

“Please!”

“How do we fix Mr. Stark?” The Director leaned his hand over the button again, one eye wary of Thor’s slow movements towards the cage. He had advised against him being in the room, but Thor was positive he could stomach it. Of course, the God of Lies still had his words to worm through open wounds.

“ _Brother_!” He shouted over the sound of the collar before the electricity threw him against the ground, back arched and fingers clawing at the floor, against his own throat as if to rip himself open just to get the infernal thing off.

“Enough!” Thor bellowed over the prisoner’s screams and practically pushed Fury over in an attempt to get him to cease his ministrations. “Open it.”

There was a look in his eyes that made the three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rethink making him ask a second time and complied, albeit reluctantly. Natasha opened his mouth to speak but Fury waved it away. With a hiss, the glass panel opened and Thor entered the chamber. He immediately knelt by the gasping heap that was his brother and placed a large hand on the shaking shoulder, attempting to bring him upright. Loki let himself be handled upwards, staring at Thor through his mess of black hair with teary eyes and cracked lips. Then all at once the palm of his hand shot up and met the golden boy in the chin, a low, manic chuckle filtering through his curling mouth.

“You are such a weak fool! I would not waste my dying breath to beg for your aid!” He spat. Fury pressed the red button, the collar squeaked and Loki spread a wide, face splitting grin at the tense agents. “That merely tickles, Director. This collar is merely a tacky decoration. You will not have your answers, you will not have your man of iron. You should simply find a place from which to watch the world burn!”

Thor quickly recovered from the surprise rather than the attack on his lower jaw and grabbed Loki by his messy tresses, pulling him up to his feet and dragging him to the edge of the circle. Agent Romanov disappeared into the darkness of the room and reemerged with the mouthpiece they’d taken off earlier. He thrashed against the brute hold, inadvertently kicking Natasha in the shin as she clicked the metal contraption in place. Thor threw him into the center of the room and didn’t give the youth the satisfaction of seeing his hurt expression, but Loki knew it was there and he smiled behind the gag. He knew how to twist his poison into the still too fresh wounds Thor held, the guilt, the anxiety, the absolutely sickening sentiment he held on to. It was downright childish for both of them.

“Thor, why don’t you get some rest,” Natasha offered with a genuine softness to her voice. She settled her tiny hand on his forearm. “I’ll walk you to the lounge and check up on Dr. Banner and Captain Rogers while I’m at it.”

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Tony woke up to a blaring light shining in his left eye, and then the right, and then again in the left before he groaned bitterly at Dr. Banner’s flashlight. He heard mumbled voices; the low, calculating baritone of Bruce and the anxious quickness of Steve’s, but he couldn’t make out what exactly they were saying. The buzzing in his ears saw to that, as did a rather unsteady beeping somewhere off in the room. He attempted to open his eyes to get a bearing on where exactly he’d been dragged off to and was met with the blurry interior of the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical bay. White walls and white cabinets with white medical supplies, white plastic tables screwed in place on white linoleum floors, and all brightened by white lights hanging from white ceilings. The brunette wondered, if only for a mere second, if this was what Heaven looked like, but it smelled like the inside of a sterilization chamber and the pearly white gates were steel metal doors guarded by two men in military uniforms holding guns. Not Heaven, still his own little personal Hell.

Where was Loki? He meant to verbalize his concern only to realize the restrains against his mouth; some sort of cloth jammed between his teeth and a thick cotton material wrapped tightly around his head. Leather buckles held his wrists and ankles in place against a cold metal slab tilted at a slight angle. At some point in time someone had taken off his shirt to reveal his arc reactor and he could feel circular suction cups attached to key points on his chest. Tony blinked again, trying to clear out the grogginess from his sight. Steve and Bruce were conversing on the other side of the room in hushed voices. To the left of him was a table with a white tray on it. Inside the tray sat the many typical tools one would use in surgery – that wasn’t reassuring. To the right was another table with Dr. Banner’s brown bag, slouched as it was now empty of its contents, several tools Tony recognized from his workshop at Stark Tower, and an arc reactor. His heart skipped a beat, worried for a moment that they had taken his own, but he felt it like a warm weight sitting in the divot of his chest, coursing life through him, keeping shrapnel from penetrating his heart, and the cozy stream of magic. While his arc reactor was still situated inside of him, it didn’t ease his worry about the second sitting next to him.

Tony tried the restraints at his wrists with a tight tug, bent his knees to strain against the ones at his ankles, but no dice. Stuck, without his God, his King. He shot a glare up at the two other men in the room. Steve looked to be listening more than contributing to the conversation, and Bruce animatedly described something with his hands, pausing every once in a while to push the bridge of his glasses up to their original perch. His brown eyes glanced over to Tony strapped to the examination table and pressed his lips together in a thin line, gesturing to the Captain that their prisoner was awake.

“This won’t be pretty,” Bruce sighed. “But if what Thor said is true and my theory is correct, we’ll break the magic holding him.”

Steve nodded, following with shuffled footsteps as the doctor made his way over to Tony. He couldn’t help but notice the somewhat frantic look the billionaire held, but he supposed the reaction would be natural after waking up tied to a table. The blonde wanted to say something to calm his nerves, somewhere along the lines of “this is for your own good” and “we’re doing this because we care” but what difference would it make if the real Tony wasn’t even listening? Instead, Steve offered him a smile and Tony seemed to snarl underneath the gag.

Bruce nervously pushed his glasses up again and took in a deep, steady breath. He nodded once more at Steve, who nodded back in confirmation, before moving his hands to the arc reactor in Tony’s chest. The philanthropist jerked against his restrains and only succeeded in chaffing them painfully against his wrists. The reaction alone had the two men raising their eyebrows. While he was well known for his privacy regarding his reactor technology, both on a public level and personal one, this seemed a little too panicky for the Tony Stark they knew. The two-toned eyes widened and dilated, quickly flicking between the blonde and the brunette as he desperately pressed against the leather bonds. His voice came out in muffled incoherent blurbs that most certainly weren’t words of encouragement, and Bruce took it as a cue to press on.

“Go around and keep him steady please,” the doctor said, situating himself between Stark and the table with the second arc reactor on it. “This is a delicate process I’ve never done before, so I’d rather him be as still as possible.”

Tony began to thrash harder when Steve pressed down on his shoulders. The only thing he could wriggle now was his waist, and that wasn’t going to do him any good. A choked sound made its way through the gag as Bruce went for the arc reactor again.

No, no, no, _no, **no**_. What about the plan? What about killing Steve? What about terrorizing Niagara Falls or Big Ben or the Great Wall of China? What about his not-so heroic fall from grace? Loki promised to catch him when he did… what about the King? What was a King without his Knight? What was a King without his Kingdom? What about the knowledge he consumed, of the freedom and the truth and the possibilities? What about their desire for destruction and control and each other? This intoxication wouldn’t just leave him, he wouldn’t let it, and somewhere inside Tony a piece of him held on to the forbidden fruit that had almost been completely consumed. While it may now just be a core, it was something. A piece of Loki that would never fade, the sickeningly sweet disease that he was, flooding through his heart and mind.

With a soft _click_ and a cautious twist, Bruce slowly pulled the arc reactor from Tony’s chest and Steve watched the green swirl drain from his eyes. There was an intense burst of pain in his skull and in his chest, a searing hot burn flooding his veins. All at once, the brunette’s brain seemed to shift from Loki to Tony, back to Loki, fought back into control by Tony and with an abrupt convulsion his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body went still. The vital signs on the machines were going haywire and Steve looked up at Dr. Banner for some sign of reassurance. For a second, the two men simultaneously seemed distracted by the strange glowing green chip protruding from the arc reactor in Bruce’s hand, then all at once the panic of their friend going into cardiac arrest gripped them and they set out to replace the hole in Tony’s chest. Quickly, yet still with precision caution, Bruce placed the new arc reactor he’d taken from the man’s workshop and placed it into the gaping hole, twisting it until everything seemed to click into place and the vital signs attempted to stabilize. They stepped back, watching the scarce rise and fall of Tony’s upper body, but when he didn’t open his eyes after they counted to ten, Steve got anxious.

“Did we kill him?” He asked stupidly. His baby blues shot over to the recently removed arc reactor. “And what is that?”

“Thor said Loki could possess someone with his magic, a sort of binding spell. I think… he used the chip that inserts itself directly into Tony’s chest – that seems to be glowing the brightest. If that’s how he was funneling the spell into him, it would be similar to unplugging him. Take away the electricity from an appliance and it stops.”

“So we killed him?” Panic laced his voice, but Bruce held up his hand.

“No, no. We essentially unplugged the spell, so that… ‘other Tony’ that wanted to kill you, maybe we killed that and for now the real Tony is under a coma.”

“That isn’t reassuring!”

“I told you this was a theory, we’ve never dealt with anything like this before,” he calmly intervened because if he doesn’t keep calm then Steve won’t keep calm and they’ll both be an unhelpful mess. “He’s breathing, so he’s alive, alright? I’ll take a look at his blood sample we took while he was unconscious and see if that can’t tell us anything. Go let the others know what’s going on and rest a bit, you’ve been through enough today.”

For a moment, the panic surged up into his throat before Steve swallowed hard and nodded. He did need to rest, if not because of the events that occurred today then to catch up on the last three days of no sleep. Fury first, bed second. He nodded once more before trudging out of the medical bay with lead feet. They put Tony in a coma, and while he was breathing that didn’t automatically mean everything was peachy just yet. Steve ran his fingers roughly through his normally neat hair, now a disheveled mess. He sped through the hallways blindly with heavy footsteps, eventually rounding a corner and bumping into Natasha. She put her hands up just in time before the super soldier knocked her in the face with his chest, and with a curt upturn of her eyebrow silently asked if he was all right. He looked pale, sick even.

“O-Oh, Ms. Romanov, I’m sorry, I – ”

“It’s fine,” she cut him off and smiled warmly, sincerely.

He returned it with a tight-lipped smile before remembering what he had been running off to do in his blind haste. “Uhm, Tony, he, um, we…” Breathe. “Dr. Banner and I removed Tony’s arc reactor and put in the new one. He’s breathing, barely, and unconscious. Dr. Banner said he was doing more tests, told me to let everyone know what happened and take a rest.”

“You go, then. I was on my way to the medical lab anyway, so I’ll call in the news. Thor’s in the lounge too. I told him to sleep, but you know how he is,” she shrugged.

“How did the interrogation go?” Steve asked awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

Natasha gave Steve a skeptical look. “How do you think?”

Typical. “Right. Well… thank you. I’ll try to get some sleep. Wake me if anything changes with Tony, though.”

“Will do.”

Steve sidestepped to let the redhead pass and took to a slower pace afterwards. Breathe, he reminded himself as he shuffled down the hallway with his face towards the ground. They both expected the unexpected in this situation, as one always should when magic was involved. Not to mention that Loki was involved too, so whatever happened was the wildest card of them all. Steve wondered if the God knew he no longer had power over Tony, if he could feel the gap, and for a moment the blonde played with the idea of finding him, interrogating him on his own. No, not the best idea, because it was out of anger he would seek him, and Loki thrived off of getting underneath people’s skin. He would want that, to spin Steve a web of lies that would have him doubting because _he will fall_ and it scared him. The blonde pressed his lips together, nibbling on the chapped skin of his lower lip. Breathe. He had faith in Tony, he would pull through, and he’d stand above the rest of them and stay there because that was who Tony was – the top dog. No one would pull him underneath, not even a God.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

_Oh, well is this not an unfortunate turn of events._ _And we were so close, so very close to the edge, all you needed was a simple nudge in the right direction._

Tony felt weightless and tired and empty, but full to the point of explosion, which didn’t make any sense at all. He tried to open his eyes, but found himself staring at a blanket of blackness, nothingness. The voice, thick like honey and poisonous, echoed through the infinite space of darkness and stung.

_But do not lose hope, little man of iron. I am still here, I have not deserted you; you will be mine and I yours because we are bound and nothing can change that; no one will take that away from us. You are a Knight and I your King. At my beck and call you will come._

While the words dripped with reassuring warmth, there was an undeniable bitter cold growing inside of Tony. It wrapped around his heart, beating like a caged hummingbird, and squeezed. He couldn’t breath, the oxygen left him, and everything faded to white.

_Do not fear, little man of iron._ _I will catch you. You just need to take the first step. You will be safe, that I promise you._

A memory flashed before him, of the sky and his Tower and glass. Falling, he was falling because he could hear the wind rushing in his ears and the steady feel of gravity tugging at him. The feeling of cold fingers seared into his throat after Loki picked him up and threw him unceremoniously out the window. He outstretched a hand to the sky, to someone who wasn’t there, and then from behind there came a pair of arms. Strong and warm, safe like he promised, but wrong, all wrong.

_Do not fight, little man of iron. You will be mine and mine alone._

He struggled anyway, because this didn’t feel right. Empty promises filled his mind, of safety, of power, of success, and of desire. He didn’t want them, he wanted his family back. He wanted Fury to scold him for doing something irresponsibly responsible because the collateral damage shot through the roof but the bad guys had been defeated. He wanted Maria’s condescending glare across the conference table when he wasn’t paying attention and playing Angry Birds on his phone. He wanted Clint’s smartass remarks over the intercom and Natasha’s monotone strictness but double-edged sentiment. He wanted Thor to challenge him to a drinking match and Bruce to talk science theories with him over a morning-after cup of coffee. And Steve – he wanted Steve to believe in him, to remind him he’s only human and people care about him and that he’ll always have his back.

_You need me._

He didn’t.

_You need me!_

Loki’s grip around him loosened and faded, leaving Tony weightless again. His breath evened out, the warmth spread through him, and he tried a second time to open his eyes to the world as Tony Stark once more.

“Tony?” The voice sounded familiar and welcomed, but he couldn’t peg it down just yet.

“Is he awake?” A female voice, stern but hopeful; it sounded like Natasha.

“I don’t know,” there was a bit of shuffling before the man – Bruce he thought – spoke again. “Tony, can you hear me?

His throat felt unbearably dry and raw, but he managed a soft groan as the world came into a blurred focus. He felt horizontal and realized his place on the lab table, tied up at each ankle and wrist, facing upwards at the ceiling and two faces he wanted to reach out and kiss. Brown curls and sharp red hair, two pairs of eyes full of hope and a tinge of fear, a heart-shaped face next to a scruffy one. One of them pushed their glasses up the bridge of his nose and the other unconsciously pulled a stray piece of hair behind her ear. He weakly pulled against his restrains before throwing out a signature shit-eating grin.

“I had a dream about this once, you know,” he quipped and Natasha rolled her eyes, expression somewhere between disbelief that he could joke at such a time and relief that he seemed to be back to himself. Bruce held his reserves, but offered a smile.

“How do you feel?” Dr. Banner asked, moving to grab his miniature flashlight from the table next to him. He pointed it into each eye twice before Tony winced away.

“Like I’ve been hit by a planet,” he pursed his lips at the man. “But… normal, if that’s what you’re getting at. I feel like myself.”

“Do you… remember anything?”

Tony fell silent. Oh, he remembered all right but he wished he didn’t. “Yeah.”

“How much?”

“All of it.”

Bruce pressed his lips together in a thin line and looked up at Natasha. She nodded, giving him the okay to undo his restrains but warily put her hand on the butt of her pistol.

“We’ve got orders to kill if you go nuts again,” she warned as Bruce unclipped the man’s wrists.

“Oh, thanks, that’s very reassuring,” the billionaire rolled his eyes. “Fury knows how to show his love.”

“I think he’ll be fine, Agent Romanov. His blood tests are improving since we took out his arc reactor – ”

“That was dangerous, by the way,” Tony interrupted.

“ – and his eyes are nearly back to normal.”

“Where’s my shirt?” He gave Natasha a suggestive look, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Yeah, he was back to normal because she was back to threatening to kill him in his sleep. Bruce handed him a new one, a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. cotton T-shirt, and he pulled it on. “So what’s with the blood taking and talk of my pretty eyes?”

Natasha handed him a small mirror from the wall near the counters. He took it and stared into almost familiar eyes; there were green specks floating in his iris, but the brown had pretty much taken over once more. His face, on the other hand, looked as if a planet really had hit him. The dark circles underneath his eyes were unbecoming and his face was a scruffy mess. There was also a blossoming bruise on his cheek.

“What was wrong with them?”

“They were almost completely green.” Bruce answered and tapped his finger next to the telescope on the table. “And if you think that’s weird you should see the blood I pulled out of you before we took out the arc reactor. I just started doing tests on the chip we – ”

“Where’s Steve?”

The room fell silent for a heartbeat before Natasha answered, “In the lounge. Down the hallway, two lefts, one right, and it’s the third door down.”

The thank you went unsaid, but not unnoticed and Tony practically leapt from the examination table and hazily walked out of the room with unsteady footing. The Russian counted to three before leaving after him, she knew better than to let him go alone even if Bruce was convinced they had fixed him. Call it being careful, call it paranoia, call it what you want but Natasha wasn’t going to ignore the small chance that Tony could possibly be going out to find Loki. But he took the two lefts and almost missed the hidden right before counting three doors down to find an unmarked room with a small round window at eye level. The brunette peeked inside before opening the door and found Thor on the couch, facing away from everyone in a disgruntled heap of metal and leather. Steve was at the coffee table in the center of the room, untouched mug of liquid sitting next to him. The bend of his arm cradled his head as he doodled something in his sketchbook. He hadn’t changed his shirt and he still had blood from the bite mark he’d given him, the gauze protruding from underneath it. The bruise from before was also rather prominent on his cheek and Tony felt a pang of guilt. It wasn’t him, he told himself, he hadn’t been in his right mind.

The door creaked open and Steve looked up, half expecting to see Bruce with news, but to his surprise a different brunette came strutting in. Tony tried to play it off like it was no big deal, he was back, like always, and nothing was going to bring him down but there was that doubt in the back of his mind that had been eating away at him since Loki had taken over. If he didn’t come to his senses, if they did succeed, it would be all over. His knees felt weak and they shook a bit, but Tony masked his discomfort with a lopsided grin. He pretended not to notice a play of doubt cross over Steve’s expression, fear flash in his baby blue hues, before he slowly crept out of his chair and took a step forward. Thor half turned to peek over his shoulder, arm itching for Mjolnir if things turned for the worst. The tension in the air thickened just a bit and Tony shifted his weight from one foot to the next, trying to find the words trapped underneath the growing knot in his throat. He wanted to apologize and laugh and cry and say something snarky all at the same time. But the doubt was deep seeded. What if they didn’t trust him anymore? What if he had already fallen from grace in their eyes? Did Steve lose his faith in him?

“Tony?” His voice sounded far away, everything seemed far away and the room was spinning. The air was heavy and suddenly the billionaire didn’t know where he was or what he was doing because the last week and a half had been nothing but a blur, looking out from the inside of his body that wasn’t his to control. He flexed his hands next to him to make sure they were his, blinked away the hot tears threatening to spill – and when had they gotten there anyway – and tried to take another step forward, but he couldn’t and it frightened him. “Tony?”

Steve closed the distance between them with his arms wrapped firmly around the man’s shoulders, calming the man’s nerves and the shaking jitters that had overtaken him. These arms were strong and warm, safe as promised, and right, all right.

With a shaky breath, Tony spoke in a tight, wet voice, “Hey Steve” and pressed his forehead into his collarbone. His arms loosely wrapped around the blonde’s back and gripped his shirt with unsteady hands.

Steve let out a breathy chuckle, allowing a smile to grace his features as his fears and doubts washed away. This sounded like the Tony he knew, without the darkness, without the cruelty, without the magic eating at his bones. Albeit, he sounded on the verge of tears, but who could blame him? Hell, his own vision began to blur as he held Tony in a firm, reassuring hug. Neither could bring themselves to speak again, Steve because he didn’t know what to say and Tony because he was biting back a fitful onslaught of tears and apologies weren’t really his thing even though Steve deserved a truckload.

Thor sat on the edge of the couch with a sad smile on his face. While he was glad the man of iron was himself once more, that still didn’t take away from the fact that Loki was imprisoned. He held no more useful information for the mortals, but something told him Fury wasn’t going to just let Thor take him back to Asgard as easily as he had the first time. And what would the All-Father do if not try to banish him again, teach him humility, or would his patience be gone after this slight? Thor squeezed his hands into fists and took in a deep, uneasy breath.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, finally, breaking the silence in the room. He put a few inches between them so he could look down at the brunette. The green flecks in his brown hues seemed to laugh at him, but the Captain held strong – it was an improvement.

Tony shrugged, running a shaky hand through his tousled hair. “Like me, I guess. It’s weird. But I don’t have an overwhelming urge to kill you so…” his voice broke and he swallowed down the hard knot threatening to crawl up and out from between his lips in the form of a sob. He could meet Steve’s eyes when he said, “I owe you a lifetime of apologies alone for that.”

“Hey,” his voice was stern, like a parent, before softening. “That wasn’t your fault, you had no control over it, right? I don’t blame you, no one does.”

The brunette could only hope that was true, but he didn’t ask and opted for a smile instead. His eyes flicked over to Thor on the couch and he gave a short two-finger salute his way. “Nice to see you again, Point Break.”

“I am relieved to see you as well, Tony Stark,” the other blonde in the room brightened, standing on his feet and at full height. “And not under the control of my brother.”

“Speaking of that little shit,” Tony’s eyes narrowed, and uncontrollable surge of anger sweeping over him. “Where might he be?”

“I don’t think we should let you near him for a while,” Steve interjected, but the billionaire held up his hand.

“I don’t want to talk to him, I just want to let him know I’m not his anymore,” he gave a half-smile over to Steve. “Just to relish the look of disappointment on his face, that’s all.”

“I’m going with you,” he insisted and looked over his shoulder at Thor, who nodded in agreement.

It would be sweet to see Loki with his brain twisted on correctly and the promise of revenge in his near normal eyes. Tony wished he could say he enjoyed walking into the too dark, too cold holding chamber they kept the God in, to see the slumped form sitting against the opposing wall, metal mouthpiece tightly wrapped around his head. He pretended not to see the hopeful tilt of his head, the satisfaction in his green orbs, but when Tony stared back with brown eyes and a brand new arc reactor in his chest, arms sternly crossed over it, his entire body almost physically recoiled. He smiled smugly at the immortal before turning on his heel, back to Steve and Thor waiting at the entrance. If he didn’t know better, and he did which was worse, he’d say Loki actually looked _sad_.


	10. Chapter 10

Fury called a meeting as soon as Natasha informed him of Stark’s status. Nothing formal, mostly due to the fact that Tony had to, for once, debrief everyone on his whereabouts and he was rather adamant on making it comfortable for everyone. They held it in the lounge because it was the least gloomy spot Tony had been able to find – S.H.I.E.L.D. lacked in the fun and happy department – and eating Earth food never sounded so appealing. Situated on top of the coffee table with a cheeseburger in hand, the philanthropist watched as the rest of the team filed in. Bruce stood next to him with all the data he could muster up on Tony’s blood tests and the strange glowing chip they pulled from the arc reactor, but something told the good doctor that his friend would be able to shed better light on the subject. When everyone was situated in the available space, Fury gave a languid gesture for the man to begin.

But where to begin? The beginning sounded like a good place as any and so he talked about the night he flew in from New York after their last battle. The electricity had malfunctioned and the next thing he remembered was waking up on his balcony the morning after. From there, everything seemed to tumble out of his mouth in a semi-organized mess of happenings. There were a few moments that deviated from the truth, such as the more tender moments at Loki’s hideout – but then he was sure the hickeys on his neck and down his chest had been dead giveaways – and he hadn’t gone into too much detail about the overall feeling of being mind controlled. He compared it to an out of body experience, but instead of looking on from the outside, he was still inside. His mind whispered things, lies, about an untold truth, picked apart his insides and twisted his life into a dark and cruel world. Safety, it promised with poison. It brought out the worst in him, his deepest fears, the undeniable self-destructiveness Loki had admired so greatly, and the idea that he was no hero. Tony would admit, but only to himself, that he was the easiest to bring down because of his own self-loathing but to the extent in which Loki had almost succeeded was going to keep him up at night. Throughout most of his debriefing, he refused to make eye contact with anyone except the cheeseburger melting in his hand. He talked on about Loki’s plans for him as best as he could because even in a mind controlled state the God had been fucking cryptic as ever. The world had been made their playground and the Avengers paid the price while he was out gallivanting with a war criminal. He stopped at the point where he and Loki unsuccessfully stormed the Tower; they didn’t need a repeat of that.

Fury didn’t let the awkwardness settle after Tony finished his story. “And Dr. Banner, what did you find out?”

Long story short, and in a language everyone could understand, the arc reactor had been a sort of funnel for Loki’s magic to pour out of and into a subject – Tony. Thor had been correct when he thought it was a binding spell, a hefty one at that, which was mildly impressive since enchantment wasn’t exactly his brother’s forte.

“This is what his blood looked like before we took out the arc reactor,” Bruce handed out photographs of the sample.

“Holy fuck,” Tony managed with a mouth full of beef. Red blood cells swam in a sea of unidentifiable green particles that attached to the cells like a virus. “It looks like Christmas exploded inside my body.”

Bruce took out another sample of photos; these taken with the blood after the arc reactor had been removed. Much like Tony’s eyes, the green flecks were sparse in his bloodstream, but it didn’t make him feel any better knowing they still inhabited him. Bruce also mentioned that side effects were prevalent in a situation like this. Unplugging Tony the way they did would be similar to taking drugs away from an addict. Tony snorted at this, but said nothing because what did he know about magic? What did any of them, save Thor and Loki, know about magic? It frightened him, but he kept the mask of passiveness and hunger on like a champ. So far, the only side effect he felt was anger and an incredible sense of doubt from his teammates. Nothing new, really.

“For now we’ll keep Stark under surveillance,” Fury stated as he turned for the door. “If you feel anything weird, you’re to report it – no ifs ands or buts about it either. You’ll be on probation until further notice.”

“Fine,” Tony pouted, but he couldn’t really blame the man. “It’ll give me time to fix the Mark VII anyway.”

Steve and Thor looked a bit guilty about that. “Sorry,” said Steve.

“No, you’ll be staying under surveillance _here_ ,” the Director stressed, pointing down at the floor to signal he meant the base. “You’re not leaving until we’re a hundred percent sure you aren’t a liability. I still need to talk to the Council _and_ the world about what happened.”

The brunette pursed his lips together before stuffing the rest of the burger into his mouth, chewing on it sourly. What the hell was there to even do here? It was like the capital city of the state of boredom.

_They don’t trust you_. A small voice hissed inside his brain, a voice not his own. It startled him and almost caused him to fall off the coffee table. Tony listened for it again, but it quieted as if it hadn’t even happened. Strange.

“Don’t worry, Tony,” Steve patted him on the back, the all-American smile plastered to his face. It was a warm welcome after the look of distraught horror he’d last seen on him. “We’ll still be here when we aren’t on duty.”

Thus began Tony Stark’s integration into normalcy. He spent most of his time in the lab with Bruce trying to decipher what exactly was on the arc reactor chip. No one dared to touch it with bare hands, and while Tony joked about it the very thought of coming into contact with that thing made him shake. They couldn’t pick apart magic, though, not like science because it was all part of the inner mind, the connection with the things they couldn’t see that one perceived as magic. He remembered the time he had asked Loki about it, and he had told him without hesitation, as if he’d been waiting his entire life for someone to admire his skill. But he hadn’t gone into detail about what this enchantment actually was, besides a binding spell.

When he wasn’t in the lab, he was with Steve in the hangar, helping with the reconstruction of the lost Quinjets he’d helped destroy. As much as the blonde tried, there was still an edge to him, a flicker of caution that never used to be there and it hurt. In time, Tony thought, they would ease back into the everyday routine of drawn out conversations and small bits of bickering and teamwork on the job. He had to think of it from Steve’s perspective, he’d been the closest to Tony during the fiasco, and he saw the craziness, the magic that gripped him like an evil force. He’d threatened to kill him on more than one occasion and that was enough to put a small riff between them.

Clint and Natasha were scarce but Tony knew better than to think them far away – under surveillance and all that jazz. The archer attempted to sit the brunette down and talk about the mind control, how he felt and what he’d been shown because Barton could never talk about that stuff with anyone else. Tony always told him another time, though. Even he didn’t have a complete straight understanding of the contradicting truth and lie he’d been fed for the week and a half. Maybe another time, when there was alcohol at their disposal. Natasha was softer with him, a little less glare and a little more smile, and she didn’t ask him any questions, which was a nice change of pace.

Thor didn’t show his face often either, but the security footage – that Tony had managed to hack out of sheer lack of things to do – showed that he spent a lot of time in the room where Loki was being held. They didn’t talk; rather Thor didn’t because a certain favorite mechanism kept the other God silent regardless. The God of Thunder would stare at his not-brother who was still as stone itself. Who knew what was running through his mind. Clearly nothing sane, Tony was sure of that.

While Steve and Bruce were out making an appearance for political purposes about the Tony and Loki fiasco, the philanthropist caught Thor in the lounge curled up against the couch cushions.

“What’s with the gloomy thunder cloud?” The brunette asked as he walked over to the coffee machine. Why wasn’t there any alcohol in this forsaken place?

The blonde peeked over his shoulder momentarily before rolling onto his back to watch the mortal. “It is my brother,” and Tony rolled his eyes. “Director Fury has yet to make a decision about his current status and I fear for the worst.”

As the coffeemaker gurgled, the billionaire took up a chair from the table and situated it nearer the couch. He sat on it backwards, leaning his arms on the back of the chair. A part of him wished for the worst, the very worst, but the other part tugged him in the opposite direction.

_Remember?_ The little voice in his head echoed – this had become a weird occurrence when he found himself thinking about the raven-haired God. _You care. Do not deny me, little man of iron._

“Well,” Tony scratched irritably at his head, a quick and twitchy movement. “What can we do? Strictly speaking, he doesn’t belong to us, he belongs to Asgard, so we should just give him back to you and your people to deal with.”

“You are uncomfortable with his presence.” It was a statement, not a question. “I do not blame you, but it is not that simple.”

Thor fell silent for a stretch of time, and Tony let the machine at the counter fill it. It beeped when it was finished and the brunette left the blonde’s presence for a moment to pour himself a cup. He motioned the half full pot to the God but Thor declined, and rightfully so. This wasn’t decaf and the big guy looked as if he needed a good night’s rest or several. When he sat back down and stirred the steaming hot liquid with a plastic spoon, he looked back up at Thor with a question on his tongue.

“Where were you?” While he tone held no bitterness to it, he did feel a little let down that it took the God a week and a half to finally show his face.

At the question, Thor shifted his eyes elsewhere, but allowed an answer to slip through. “When Loki escaped, there were more than a few accusations reaching volume that I had let him go. I did not.”

“But you hinted at it,” Tony raised his eyebrows.

“I may have acted out of turn when the punishment had come to term,” he sounded offended and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “Loki hates me, and I cannot deny him of that, but that does not mean the feeling is mutual. I do not wish for the rift between us to grow any deeper, yet he seeks no means to amend. The thought of helping him escape had crossed my mind more than once, but I did not dare go against my father’s words in action. Everything he does is for a reason and we needed to see this through just as Asgard had my exile. So when Loki had escaped, it was easier to point a finger at the me after my… outburst, and Odin could not let me leave until it was resolved.”

Tony nodded, sipping at his warm cup of coffee. “Understandable. I’m guessing it’s still a mystery then?”

“It is. Did he not speak of it with you?” He looked hopeful, but the brunette shot him down with a shake of his head.

“No, he seemed pretty keen on reminding me that I was on a need-to-know basis. I couldn’t get anything out of him unless I really pushed,” he smirked, but it was empty. There had been that moment in bed, when he had crawled underneath Loki’s skin and paid for it with a smack to the face and literally being thrown from the bedroom. “Nothing important though. So if we were to give Loki back to Asgard, what would happen?”

Thor shrugged. “I do not know. When I brought him before Odin and his council, they had spoken briefly of the same exile that I had served – the loss of his powers and a mortal life on Earth until his lesson had been learned. I seconded the idea, it had served me well, but Odin waved it away. However he did give Loki a choice. He could serve his exile on the Isle of Silence with nothing but the sound of his own mind to comfort him, or he could serve it in the prisons of Asgard.”

“I bet I can guess which one you wanted.”

“I spoke my opinion, but ultimately it was Loki’s decision, and when he refused to speak or even look at us, Odin made the final call,” Thor quieted, glancing at Tony through his eyelashes. “His mouth was to be sewn shut and his body hauled off to the Isle of Silence until further notice.”

Forgotten, Tony thought and he remembered a rather vivid – almost too much so – memory of when Loki looked at him sometimes with distant eyes that brightened with a flicker when Tony gave him his undivided attention and asked questions about magic, and the way he would touch him if only just for the physical contact. The need to be noticed etched over him even in his sleep and one night, when the mortal had been protectively near, he slipped beneath the sheets and held him close.

_Remember?_ The voice repeated. _You care. Do not deny me, little man of iron._

“Tony Stark?” Thor called out with a curious twist to his expression.

He flinched, ignoring the fading voice and the all too real memory that disappeared around him. “Yeah?”

The blonde blinked. “Are you well?”

“Uhm… yeah,” Tony swallowed hard and suddenly the coffee began to taste rancid on his tongue. “I think I need some sleep. Sorry to cut the conversation short.”

“You need not worry – rest.” Thor smiled up at him, wide and sincere, and watched with stormy eyes as the brunette threw the rest of the coffee down the sink, placed the cup on the counter without washing it and trudged out of the lounge.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

The dream held a lucidity to it that made Tony wonder if it were actually a dream at all. As soon as his eyes shut, an overwhelming blackness wrapped around him and caused familiar, unnerving weightlessness. The voice was back, thick and heavy and manipulative, but where the brunette would usually ignore it, in his dream he was the puppet. An imaginary hand pulled invisible strings that twisted him awake.

_Stark._ The voice beckoned with a false sense of security. _Go to him._

Without threat or specificity, Tony’s legs slid over the side of the bed and lifted him up to a standing position. He seemed to glide across the floor with a grace unlike his own and with every blink there came a new hallway, closer to his destination. The metal doors, unguarded and wide open, welcomed him into the dark enclosed room, the not-so empty cylinder sitting in the center. Even in the dull light, Tony could see him, slouched and defeated, not the Prince of Asgard he had once been. Loki flinched when there came a tap on the glass, as if he’d been in a deep sleep, and his eyes held surprise, and something else he couldn’t – or rather wouldn’t – name. With caution, he slipped onto his hands and knees and weakly lifted himself up so he could take the two, long strides it took to reach the other side of his cage. Tony felt the strings pull up on his cheeks, between the edges of his lips, and his reflection casted a smile as a calloused hand lifted up to press against the clear wall. Loki glanced at it, and then at Tony’s welcoming face before placing his pale hand to mimic the other’s. An apology sat on his lips for failing him, for losing him, but it didn’t come. Instead he felt the painful jolt of reality throw him out of the dreamscape and into the uncomfortable S.H.I.E.L.D. bed, sweat drenched and gasping.

The next night was no different, if only to say the dream had gone on for longer. It started off the same, with the beck and call of his name and one order, his feet leading him to where Loki sat alone. This time, the God seemed a little less surprised, but no less cautious as he rose and stepped towards the glass that sat between them. Tony moved to the control panel at the left, punched in a code he didn’t realize he knew and let the door slide open with a hiss.

The night after that he brought his hands to either side of Loki’s face and pulled him close. He let his forehead rest on the shorter man’s shoulders and gripped his shirt with shaking hands as if touching him would make the illusion disappear.

The last night Tony unbuckled the mouthpiece and placed the sweetest, softest kiss upon the God’s lips and promised he would not forget him.

It had been five days since Tony had slept after that, which wasn’t anything new for him, but it was harder to stay awake without a workshop to do things in and only the company of the coffee machine and the occasional Avenger. A jittery, twitchy mess, the philanthropist kept to himself unless approached, unable to organize the chaotic mess of thoughts running amok in his brain. The dreams, as lucid as they had been, proved to be only that as he snuck into the security footage tapes and watched the night play out without a hitch. Loki sat in his cage, moving only to shift positions on the floor, and the guards rotated their shifts. No one entered, no one left.

“Stark!” Fury repeated his name for the third time, and when Tony finally heard it he almost spilled his umpteenth cup of coffee.

“Yeah, what? Christ, I’m right here,” he muttered irritably as he sunk into the couch in the lounge.

The Director raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he really was all there, but said, “Meeting, fifteen minutes.”

“For what?” Tony rolled his eyes, exasperated by the fact that he had to be in a meeting that didn’t even pertain to him.

“Routine, you know the drill,” Fury turned from him and began to leave, but not without adding, “Are you feeling alright, Mr. Stark?”

“Peachy, Cyclops.”

He huffed, but nodded. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A good thirty minutes later, Tony sauntered into the meeting room with a fresh cup of Jo. Late, that wasn’t anything new, but the bags under his eyes caused Steve to give him a silent look. The brunette waved it off nonchalantly and cocked an eyebrow at Fury, gesturing that he could begin. With a deep, soothing intake of breath, the one-eyed man began the presumably long discussion about the current events in the news and a summary of the debriefs from the latest crime-stopping action. Of course, Tony wasn’t going to pay attention, most of it didn’t pertain to him and if it did, it wasn’t anything he wanted to hear. He didn’t have his phone with him, and everyone seemed pretty intent on listening to Fury so it wasn’t as if he could distract someone else. With nothing at his disposal to entertain himself, his thoughts drifted to the four nights of lucid dreams and the voice inside his head. Every so often it would whisper things, and he often wondered if he should tell Bruce about it. It would set him back months of probation though, and he didn’t want that, but they were beginning to become really intense after he stopped sleeping. Tony closed his eyes and sighed; maybe this was a side effect?

_And what if they knew?_ The voice physically jolted him to attention and Steve gave him a sideways glance from across the table. _Oh, look at the darling Captain. So worried about his best friend, but does he trust you? Would any of them begin to trust you if they knew about me, about your dreams?_

Ignore it, Tony thought, but the voice pressed on. _And what would they think about your compromising position with Loki? I believe Thor would just about have your head, would he not? Your friends would be disgusted and oh so disappointed with you. How will you plead? Not guilty, it was not the will of your own? Oh, do not lie, you cannot lie to yourself just as you cannot lie to the King – it is his first tongue._

Tony swallowed a knot in his throat and, for once, tried desperately to listen to Fury’s words. The voice only grew louder. _Oh, but you know all about his tongue. Mm, yes you do. How it felt against your own, the roof of your mouth and sliding across your lips. Lie to yourself, tell yourself you did not desire it, that you would not desire it again, that the mere thought of his tongue pressing into your skin, marking you, does not turn your blood hot._ It didn’t, but the temperature in the room had changed dramatically. _How cute, you resist. Little man of iron, you know better._

All at once his vision tunneled and he could feel warm breath against his neck, cool fingers sliding down his thigh, and that wet, God-like appendage slipping into the divot of his collarbone. The chair he sat in felt like the midnight fur blanket they had wrapped themselves up in and to his left a roaring fire crackled. Teeth nibbled at the thin expanse of skin over his bone and Tony swallowed an embarrassingly loud moan. The press of fingers desperately clawing at his skin and the mouth, now suddenly at his ear, licked and nibbled and sucked and whispered the darkest of promises to him. His fingers dug into the armrests on the chair and the voice chuckled softly.

_Tell yourself you did not want him, you did not crave him, and that your strangled cry for him was not your own._ Teeth scraped against the flesh of his earlobe, nipped and teased down his throat. _You were under his control, to do his bidding, and that had been brought upon your own intentions. You can lie to your friends, to your comrades, but you cannot lie to yourself._ A tickle of lips ghosted against his pulse. _You cannot lie to him._

Tony’s hand flew up and slapped himself against his neck as the memory of Loki biting down on his frantically beating vein became all too real. It hurt, but only in memory as his fingers came away empty of blood. Everyone stared at him momentarily and he offered them an uneasy smile.

“Mosquito. Son of a bitch got me,” he chuckled, but his heart wasn’t in it. Regardless, Fury continued, his one good eye on the brunette.

The voice laughed, hearty and cynical. _Whether you like it or not, you are his and he is yours._

“Shut up!”

The room fell silent and all eyes were on Tony once more. Fury looked more surprised than angry, and the rest of the team fell into similar worried expressions. He looked around frantically, identifying each person’s face, and roughly ran his fingers through his hair. There had been no greater feeling to scratch his brains out like this very moment as the voice echoed with hysterical cackling.

“I need to…” see Loki, his brain filled in. “To leave. Excuse me.”

With uncoordinated motions, the man fled the room with someone, possibly Steve, calling out his name. He tripped over his quick steps, bounding to the chamber as he flashed his fake certification at the checkpoints – because what else was a genius suppose to do for fun if not fuck up the security system? The last pair of doors between Loki and himself seemed hesitant, the two guards looking at each other suspiciously before double-checking the faux I.D. and letting him pass. They would call Fury and in about two minutes he’d be down there – he had two minutes.

“Loki!” He shouted, voice raw and dry. The God didn’t move, and for a moment he thought he might be dead before he saw a slim finger twitch. “Loki, get the fuck out of my head!”

The lithe man sat with one leg tucked underneath him, the other haphazardly strewn in front of him. His hands were folded on top of one another in his lap and his head leaned against the glass, staring at nothing but the boring metal walls. Black strands of tousled hair obscured his peripheral, but he knew Tony’s voice, he felt the frustrated stomps thumping towards the cage. He seemed mildly interested in the last statement, but didn’t seem to have the will to get up and look at him.

“However you’re doing it, stop, it’s over! That plan of yours, the falling, it’s _done_!” Why was he shouting, where was his usual composure? Sleep deprivation will eventually crack any man, he supposed. “Get the fuck out of my head, get the fuck out of my dreams – ”

“Mr. Stark!” Maria Hill’s voice, accompanied by the click of a gun.

“ – I don’t belong to _anyone_! And I don’t want _you_!”

Tony might have said he saw Loki flinch at his words, even just the slightest of movements, but after the gunshot rang through the room, his vision began to blur. Who knew what he saw, if that head finally turned to meet him with dead eyes or not, but right now he was seeing black and hearing that God awful laughter in the back of his mind. The sedatives hit him before he hit the ground and he slipped into a deep, needed sleep.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

“You’ve been hiding things, Mr. Stark.”

Tony woke up in the medical bay for the third time, thankfully lacking the leather straps at his wrists and ankles and this time in an actual bed. There were, however, two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents at the door, and another pair outside. Dr. Banner was in the corner of the room, hunched over and arms crossed with a look of passiveness on his face. Then there was Fury, who was just about the _best_ person to wake up to. As much as the brunette wanted to make a remark about the man having impeccable bedside manner, he kept his mouth shut, for once, and marinated in the prospect of being in bigger trouble than he had been in the past couple years of being associated with S.H.I.E.L.D.

“You know how much I hate it when you do that,” the Director drawled on, hands clasped behind his back. “So if it isn’t too much trouble, which it shouldn’t be, would you mind elaborating why you interrupted our meeting to run to our prisoner with a fake I.D.?”

To emphasize this, he held up the laminated card with Tony Stark’s face, name, and random identification number on a counterfeit S.H.I.E.L.D. identification card. It was outlined in red, allowing the second highest security clearance. Honestly, Tony had never meant to use it to get to Loki, he only wanted it so he could get into the security camera room, but he had been so far flung that afternoon – what day was it, how long had he been sleeping? – that he hadn’t thought twice about the repercussions that might serve him in the end.

“Hypothetically speaking, let’s say I haven’t been completely honest about the way I’ve been feeling,” Tony started and continued when Fury gave a tired nod. “Like the whole not sleeping thing because I may or may not be hearing voices in my head?”

“Voices?”

“Or more like _a_ voice, a certain chic tone that is rather familiar. And it’s been happening since day one of the unceremonious unplugging of my other arc reactor.”

The vein protruding from the Director’s head looked as if it were about to burst. “Are you telling me you have been hearing Loki in your head for a little more than a week and you didn’t say anything?”

“Hypothetically.”

Fury slammed his fist down on the table next to him, disrupting the surgery tools and other oddities with a jolt. “God _damn it_ Stark!”

“It wasn’t dangerous – ah, don’t look at me like that, I’m serious,” he paused to lift himself up into a more comfortable sitting position against the bunched pillows at the headboard. “He, it, whatever, just speaks to me about nonsense. I have complete control over my body; the worst thing it can do is drive me up the wall and into the nearest nuthouse.” Not helpful, but at least he wasn’t trying to kill people – namely Steve.

There was a long stretch of silence before Bruce cleared his throat and all eyes were on him. He wrung his hands together in a nervous habit before speaking with an even tone.

“It’s most likely a side effect from having the arc reactor removed. Like withdrawal, you could be experiencing – ”

_Incorrect, but a valiant assumption for a man of science._ The voice interrupted and Tony rolled his eyes. Perfect timing, as always.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” the brunette held up a hand. “But the voice says you’re wrong.”

Bruce seemed taken back a bit but Fury spoke, “And since when are we listening to a voice that sounds like Loki?”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t fucking know, you think it’s easy being the recipient of his babbles? I’m just saying, it, he, whatever says you’re wrong, that it isn’t withdrawal.”

“Then what?” The man stepped out of his corner to inch towards the bedridden man.

_Loki will know._ “Loki apparently knows.”

“I thought the voice _was_ Loki,” Fury narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“I didn’t say that, you assumed that. I said it sounded like him, but unless he’s beginning to refer to himself in third person, then it isn’t him. And before you ask, I will repeat myself only one more time – I don’t fucking know.”

“Well Loki isn’t exactly giving us answers,” Bruce sighed, rolling his fingers through his disheveled hair. “We removed the gag and have been grilling him with questions since we knocked you out, but he’s been nothing but quiet.”

Typical. “Let me talk to him – ”

A resounding “no” came from both men in the room and Tony really couldn’t blame them. He sighed melodramatically and sunk into the pillows.

_They do not trust you_. The voice chuckled and the only man in the room who could hear it sighed again and shut his eyes. Under the darkness of his eyelids, two gleaming emeralds stared back at him, and Tony abruptly pulled his eyes back open. _Go. See. Loki._

“Guys,” he grumbled. “For the sake of my sanity, I think I should go see him.”

Another thick pause before Bruce intercepted what was probably another negative from the Director with, “Let me do some tests, and if the others haven’t gotten anything out of him, then what could it hurt?”

The team wouldn’t get anything out of him, and Tony was a hundred and two percent sure he could list at least a handful of ideas off the top of his head about how speaking with Loki could hurt him. Fury pressed his lips together into a thin line, mulling over the suggestion before reluctantly nodding in agreement.

“When it’s time, I will escort you,” he said pointedly as he turned around to leave, trench coat billowing behind him.

“Okay mom,” Tony sassed. He didn’t miss the clenched fist as the man’s sides as he briskly walked out of the medical bay.

“So how bad is it?” Bruce asked, walking cautiously over to his bedside.

He pretended not to see the hesitant footing and shrugged. “It started off as dreams, very lucid dreams, so I stopped sleeping.”

“Dreams?” He inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Uhm… pretty much a series of them four nights in a row. Always started out with being called to Loki’s cell, I unlocked the door, and…” _Kissed him, held him, promised him._ “…that’s it. Then after I stopped sleeping, it got progressively worse until my little outburst in the meeting.”

“And what happened during the meeting?”

“You know how Loki can be a manipulating little shit.” _You were having difficulty concentrating because you were remembering the night you two fornicated on the couch._ “Lies and stuff, creating doubt where there shouldn’t be any.”

Tony hesitantly looked up at Bruce when he spoke of doubt. There shouldn’t be any, right? _Why not?_

“Well, to be honest, I don’t have any real tests to poke and prod you with,” he half-chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I could take another blood sample if you wanted.”

“Whatever makes tall, dark, and trench coat sleep better at night.”

It took another hour and a half to let Nick Fury allow Tony access to Loki’s chamber. The two men, in tow with Clint, Natasha, Thor and a half dozen other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, walked through each checkpoint slowly. Maria, Bruce and Steve sat in the security footage room, watching everything from a relatively safe vantage point. Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit uncomfortable with the whole situation, because without the mouthpiece Loki would throw poison at each and every one of them. He had asked Fury and the gang to sit outside the room, but he was met with a very solid, unmoving no from more than one person. Thor agreed with him, however, but dragged himself in after everyone else. If Loki hadn’t even looked in his direction the last several times he’d been to see him, perhaps their man of iron would hold his attention.

Everyone found a place on the edges of the cold, dark, and miserable little room while Tony walked up cautiously to the clear cage in the center. Save for a few nervous lesser agents shuffling in the background, the only sound loud enough to grab Loki’s attention were the brunette’s footsteps. He sat in the same position he’d been in the last time Tony saw him, one leg tucked beneath him and hands folded neatly in his lap. His head tilted only a sliver to watch his once Knight in shining gold titanium alloy out of the corner of his eyes, through strands of black hair. The mouthpiece was gone, leaving a fading red line around his lower jaw, but the cuffs remained around his wrists.

“Evenin’,” Tony gave a small wave, attempting at playing nice. The last time he’d been in here, he sort of lost his cool. Loki wouldn’t cooperate with that sort of attitude, but he didn’t seem interested in this one either. “Is it even evening? What time is it?”

He turned to the other occupants in the room, but no one answered. Fine, but they should’ve known better than to think Stark would be serious about this.

“Whatever, unimportant,” he tapped the glass with a calloused finger, smudging a print onto it. “So, you’re in my head, not in an obsessive sort of I-can’t-stop-thinking-about-you sort of way. But your voice is there, not entirely sure if you realize that or not. Oh, well, maybe not you specifically. Sounds like you, but talks about you as if it’s a different entity. Not that I don’t _love_ that voice of yours, but it’s distracting and you’d be a real pal if you just… took it back or whatever.”

The silence in the room was stifling; one could possibly hear the other team members breathing from the other room. Then, in movements too liquid and graceful to be human, Loki lifted himself onto his feet and dragged his body over to where Tony stood. He walked with every ounce of dignity he could muster after having been locked up like some animal for the last several days, head raised high and posture stick straight. Faux confidence moved each foot in front of the other until only glass and minimal centimeters kept he and the brunette separate. He was staring at the finger nudging the smeared fingerprint on the glass. With a jingle, a cuffed hand moved up to cover it, pressingly lightly on the glass.

“You have been… in my dreams.”

Tony gave nothing away visually, but couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice when he spoke, “The ones where I came here and visited you?”

“Yes.” He wouldn’t look up at the mortal.

“So we had the same dreams?”

“We were _sharing_ one dream,” Loki pulled his hand away from the glass and opted to stare at his handprint.

“How are you doing that from inside this cell?” The brunette rapped a knuckle against the glass and looked up at his technology lining the top portion of the cylinder.

“I am not.” Tony blinked at him and Loki pointed to the glowing circle at his chest.

“We changed that out, remember?” He lifted an eyebrow at the God, who shook his head but remained silent. “Am I getting the silent treatment too?”

“I have nothing to say to you or the rest of you useless creatures.”

“Well I have questions about why you’re in my head.” _Appeal to his better nature._ The voice hissed inside Tony’s head. “Or are you going to sulk because your plan didn’t work?” _You are insufferable._

“Oh?” Loki looked at the man through his lashes and strands of wayward hair. “But if you are hearing my voice without my consent, surely this was not a failure on my part.” Same cryptic God of Mischief.

The man outside of the glass cage tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at nothing in particular. He flipped through the moments where Loki had been generous with his information, about his plans for him, but came up with nothing that made a lot of sense. Then again, when did anything make sense with Loki? Biting his lower lip he casted his eyes over the God, who still refused to make intimate eye contact with him. Defeated may have been a word he would have described him as at the moment, but he knew better. His voice was everything it always was – smooth, sultry, calculating, manipulating, and above all confident. He had answers, he knew what was going on, perhaps not one hundred percent but he knew. While Stark hardly rivaled Black Widow in her interrogation skills, he tried to pry the God open.

“Thor said you pulled a rather sticky enchantment with my arc reactor.”

“And when did the oaf become fluent in magic?” Loki chanced a glance at the golden boy behind Tony.

“He said,” he continued, ignoring the comment. “To pull off that enchantment, you had to give up a piece of yourself. Sound familiar?” His question was met with silence, so he pressed on. “I remember a rather withered looking God standing in my living room after you pulled that off, you could hardly walk to the couch. So what is it, hm?” Nothing. “Come on, Rudolph, the voice said you’d have the answers.”

“Who said I would give them willingly?” He arched an elegant eyebrow. “I thought you to be a genius, Stark. Surely the answer has presented itself to you.”

Tony frowned. As if anyone here, besides Thor, knew anything about Asgardian magic bullshit. Loki enchanted the chip that slipped into Tony’s body to funnel in magic – well that was the theory – and none of that made sense enough for him to see the answer the God was hinting at. An enchant was essentially, if he understood correctly, the binding of the essence of the spell to an object. People, Thor said, were more complex; touching the skin wouldn’t do the trick in most cases because the mind, heart, and soul control the body. Like the Iron Man suit, the outer shell wouldn’t function without Tony at the inside, controlling and calculating the movements and projection. In that case, the arc reactor was a sort of key into his body, what made him tick and function. What is an enchantment but the binding of pieces to make something work? Like cogs and screws and springs, all working together with Tony to fly straight instead of curving slightly to the right and crashing into a building. A binding.

_A binding_. The voice echoed and Tony’s jaw clenched. _But do not lose hope, little man of iron. I am still here, I have not deserted you; you will be mine and I yours because we are bound and nothing can change that; no one will take that away from us. You are a Knight and I your King. At my beck and call you will come._

“You _bound_ us to one another?” The brunette tried to ignore the fact that his voice had raised an octave, but he was angry and confused and perhaps sinking into shock. “What the _hell_ does that mean?”

Loki finally looked up at him, eyes shining with something the billionaire couldn’t quite name. If he had to guess, he would call it regret or, and ignoring that it was the polar opposite, hope.  It flashed across the green hues, and with a lazy blink of his eyelids they hardened into solid jewels. Tony steeled himself, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders. They stared at each other for an awkward expanse of time, causing lesser agents to shift nervously in the back. With silence thick enough to cut through, the brunette swallowed down a forming knot in his throat before Loki broke it with his voice.

“You were once a challenge, not as formidable as you like to think yourself, but a challenge all the same. Where my magic could not be matched, you dared to stop it with your science. You hold a power that can be harnessed and I yearned for it.

“My escape from exile was made possible by the Chitauri with promises of punishment for failing them, but they made the mistake of freeing my bonds,” he paused to spare a glance at Thor, running his tongue over the vivid scars on his lower lip. “And I was able to make my escape. I spent the next several months running, hiding like some lowlife coward, searching for a way to harness you and your energy. Eventually I came across a binding spell; old dark magic – ”

“Where did you find this spell?” Thor interrupted. Loki suppressed a snarl but pulled his lips up in a sneer all the same.

“Amora. Apparently your All-Father had suspected her of assisting my escape and had her and Skurge on the run. Her security is laughable – I doubt she realizes it is missing.” He turned his attention back to Tony. “It can be harmful if done incorrectly, to both parties. I spared a generous piece of myself to harness your power, to permanently make you mine, but without the enchanted piece of metal funneling into your heart, you are nothing to me.”

Tony pursed his lips together. “So I understand the binding spell, I kind of understand why you picked me, but seriously, what is this voice in my head?”

“Not I,” the God replied simply, pressing against the glass with his fingertips.

“Sounds like you.”

“I assure you, it is not.” Loki knitted his brows together as if trying to remember something. After a moment, a look of realization flashed across his face with eyebrows raised high and wide, mischievous eyes. With a crooked smile he whispered, “It is you.”

“What?”

“It is you,” Loki repeated in the same quiet voice. “A remnant of what my enchantment left behind after your friends took out your arc reactor, the you I had control over. Do you not remember looking out when you had no control?”

Tony nodded, he didn’t trust his voice, and Loki nodded in return, as if that explained everything. Tony had been stuck in his body while an alien spirit bullied its way into control. Now that Tony had complete control, whatever hadn’t faded when the arc reactor was pulled was stuck.

“Why didn’t it leave when the reactor was disconnected?” He managed roughly.

“There are very many reasons why. A strong, determined will or a compromised emotional state perhaps.” Oh, that was a cheap shot if Tony had ever felt one.

“How the hell do you get it out?”

A coarse, raw laugh left the raven-haired male, and Tony didn’t like the sound of it. “Even if I knew, if I could, do you truly think I would remove it? I still have power over you yet, even from inside this cage. I will not relinquish that.”

That son of a bitch and his cynical magical bullshit!

“Step back from the door,” Natasha’s voice rang out in the thick silence on the room. She pointed her gun at what seemed like both of them, and the men stepped away with their hands held up at their chests. While the brunette looked slightly fearful, Loki’s expression hinted at amusement with a clear amount of interest at the situation. “Not you Stark.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, probably something sarcastic, but Director Fury appeared behind him with quiet footsteps – a feat because those giant boots of his certainly weren’t quiet material. He snatched the man by his wrists and held them behind his back while Clint moved to the control panel, tapping in the code to open the clear door.

“Wait,” Tony dug his heels into the floor, but Fury shoved him forcefully towards the open door. “Hold on – what the hell is happening?”

“If he still holds power over you, we can’t risk you losing control,” the archer answered.

“You let the Hulk on the Helicarrier, but you don’t trust that I have full control of this situation?”

“He doesn’t hear voices in his head.” Touché. “It’s just a precaution.”

“So you’re going to put me in with _him_?” Tony nodded his head towards the God. Loki looked around as innocently as any God of Mischief could, clearly surprised at the turn of events. He hadn’t planned for this, but he wasn’t complaining. “Smart move.”

“It’s temporary,” the Director grunted from behind as he forcibly, and quite practically threw the philanthropist into the cell. Clint was quick the close it, but that didn’t stop Tony from attempting a run at it.

“He might kill me, you know,” he jabbed a thumb at the raven-haired male. “We aren’t exactly on the best of terms here.”

“Oh I would never,” he heard Loki chuckle.

“It’s temporary,” repeated Fury, face stoic and unreadable as the rest of the agents. “Just until we know you’re safe.”

“Fat chance you’ll take my word for it?” He only needed _that_ look from the other man to answer him; the look that answered most of his already answered questions. “Awesome. If I’m dead when you come back, I’ll tell you now since I’ll be dead – I told you so.”

The agents turned their backs on him and made their way to the exit. Thor still stood in the shadows, but he wouldn’t look up at either Tony or Loki. He looked deep in thought and moved only until Natasha quietly called his name and motioned with a quick nod to follow. The God made a sparing glance at the two men inside the cylindrical cell, face uncharacteristically unreadable, before following the group of armored soldiers out of the room.

Tony stood at the door, fists pressed against the glass, body tense and waiting, waiting for the group to come back and realize their mistake. He kept up the façade for a good five minutes before letting his hopeful expression fall into the realization he’d been ignoring since he woke up after this nightmare.

_They do not trust you._


	11. Chapter 11

Tony Stark never doubted himself. Not when he was four and built his first circuit board, not when he was six and created his first engine, and most definitely not when he graduated MIT at seventeen. He didn’t have time to doubt himself in the Middle East because lives other than his own were at stake and he didn’t think twice about abolishing the weapons division of Stark Industries. Tony didn’t doubt that his death would be inevitably soon and most likely due to a half-thought out self-sacrificing plan he didn’t bother to tell the rest of the team about. Never had he doubted himself about his skills in bed or getting whom he wanted in it. Tony Stark didn’t doubt himself.

So what reason did he have for doing exactly that now? His teammates, his friends, holed him up in this tube of glass hell for one. A rather smug God sat across from him with narrowed, judging, calculating eyes. Not to mention the chic voice playing in his head. Yeah, that could be it. Tony let a mask of indifference slide over his face easily and while he knew it hid absolutely nothing from the raven-haired male, it did even worse against the voice penetrating his thoughts. The situation at hand sank to the pit of his gut, crawled uncomfortably underneath his skin, and shook him from the base of his spine with deathly cold fingers. They don’t trust him, the voice made it clear more times than he’d like to count. How much control did he really have over himself? How much control did Loki have? Could the bond between them rekindle and send them flying back to square one?

_So much doubt, little man of iron. You should be more positive._

“Could you maybe not stare at me?” The brunette sighed, shooting a look at Loki from his peripheral.

They sat on opposite sides of the cylindrical cage with their backs pressed up against the glass. Tony’s spread eagle position took up most of “his half” of the cell while Loki curled his legs beneath him, taking up as little space as possible. As he glanced over at the immortal, he caught the slight curve of lips forming into a smirk.

“Uncomfortable?” He asked innocently. “I see no reason why you would be, after what we have shared.”

“We – ” Tony flicked a finger between himself and the God. “Didn’t share anything. This voice and you did.”

_Liar._ The voice chuckled. “Liar,” Loki echoed, voice tinted with amusement.

The sound of clothing sliding around filled the room and Tony turned to look at the God head on. With his legs still folded underneath him, his upper body leaned forward while one hand pressed against the ground to keep him up and steady. His entire body screamed predator, but Tony would be damned if he would be looked upon as prey.

“You stay over there,” Tony leered.

Loki didn’t make a move backwards, but he stilled himself in his position. “You are frightened.”

“You wish.”

“Oh, but on the contrary, the very opposite is what I want.” The chains around his wrists chinked together as he moved another hand forward. “You have nothing to fear.”

Tony feared his friends would never trust him again, that this fiasco would never end and he would forever be at the mercy of the Loki-esque voice inside his head. In all honesty, he didn’t fear Loki as much as he probably should have, because he knew even without his powers he could kill him here and now with his bare hands before Steve could shout assemble. But he wouldn’t, not until he proved more trouble than he was worth. Just how much was Tony Stark worth to the God of Mischief?

Loki stalked on his hands and knees towards the brunette with an inhuman ease. His shoulder blades rolled underneath his sinewy muscles and his leather tunic in ways no human could ever hope to mimic. Tony wanted to repeat himself, to tell the God to get his boney, chillingly pale hand off his thigh and quit crawling up between his legs but his voice caught in his throat. Loki straddled him with a knee on either side of his hips and pressed his weight against him lightly with hands spread wide over the man’s chest. The brunette stilled himself, stone faced and unnerved even when the other managed to lick a tantalizingly slow line up from his collarbone to his pulse. The frantic fluttering beating against his skin, against the chapped, cool lips gave him away.

For a second, Tony wondered how exactly this looked from the Avenger’s standpoint. Just the scene alone would be enough for Steve to come down to mother hen him all over the place. At least someone – or at least he hoped – would stand up for him with a half-assed excuse about why Loki was straddling him in the cage. He didn’t push Loki off, but in his defense it wasn’t as if he egged him on either. It didn’t take away from the fact that this was a rather compromising position, that at least half the team had seen him shirtless and no doubt marked with teeth mark love bites. Playboy or no, there was a time and place for this sort of stuff – oh, if Pepper could hear his thoughts now she would just about _die_ because since when was there an appropriate time and place for Tony _not_ to be flirting? Now, with a promiscuous and ambiguous, seemingly immortal God sitting on his lap, licking up the shell of his ear and whispering into it.

“I would have you, here and now, in front of everyone,” he said it like a promise and it sent a shiver down the engineer’s spine. “Pick at your stitches and unravel you thread by thread until you are completely, nakedly undone beneath me.”

There came the overwhelming urge to nod in agreement, to give him the unneeded permission to take him apart like one of his own creations, but Tony tensed and kept everything but his rapidly beating pulse at a standstill. The nod couldn’t be his own, he told himself with pitiful confidence, but his libido would always be his undoing when the other participant played their cards right. Loki always played his cards right and if that was the case, then Tony would have to call his bluff.

“Needy, aren’t you?” He managed in a thick voice. Loki only chuckled, dark like poisoned honey, and palmed the mortal’s erection through his jeans.

“I do believe this works both ways, does it not?” Touché. “Come now, are you going to continue believing you are above this?”

“You bet your perky little ass I am,” he raised an eyebrow at the God, who mimicked him with a slight cock of his head. He ground the heel of his palm into the rough jean material and for a moment Tony thought that this was it, death by the crushing of his dick of all things, but Loki let up and sat back on his haunches.

“I do not understand. Your friends clearly do not trust you, and yet you still hold firmly to the belief that you are as they are? A hero?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“They may not trust me right now, but that isn’t the same as losing faith,” Tony explained. His breathed a little easier without the weight of the God on his chest. “Your voice is in my head, I don’t know if I completely trust myself either.”

“Then give in,” Loki pressed and the brunette wasn’t sure if it sounded like a plea or just a simple suggestion.

“Why? So I can be like you? Sorry, doll, not happening, I’m nothing like you.”

“You would like to think so,” he tilted his head up, looking down the bridge of his nose with a sinister grin. “Merchant of Death.”

Cheap shot number two, if anyone was keeping count, and Tony pretended not to flinch. So this was the game, hm? Two could play at that.

“Oh, but I rose up from that nickname. Maybe not in some of the public eye, not yet, but I know in my heart I’m doing the right thing. Saving people, world peace until your sour face landed on our planet – bettering myself. And I’m strong because of that, stronger than you who took the easy way out, who gave in.” Loki opened his mouth in a snarl, but Tony bravely cut him off. “What, you didn’t have a choice? Daddy wouldn’t show you love or give you equality and Thor overshadowed you in every possible way, so in order to be noticed you threw a tantrum the size of a world invasion? You think that makes you stronger, better than the rest of us, like it gives you a reason to act out of turn? Thinking like that makes you _weaker_ , Loki.”

If Tony had more to say, he didn’t get a chance to finish. Loki, having had enough of this backtalk, slammed both hands on either side of the brunette’s head, cornering him between his arms and the chain connecting his wrists. He leaned forward, eyes narrowed into thin slits and breath forcibly even from between barred teeth. There was a moment of fear that skipped a heartbeat beneath his arc reactor and it must’ve shown in his eyes. Loki growled, actually fucking growled like a goddamn animal. _Now you’ve done it._

“Let me make something perfectly clear, Stark. You know nothing. Nothing of Asgard, nothing of my life, and nothing of me. You like to think you do, but you do not and should you ever make such an obscure remark again I _will end you_.”

Tony knew more than Loki liked to admit though, and that’s what bothered him. He knew of neglected fathers and the constant climb out of the dark side of the moon. He knew of trials and errors and failures and practice and determination and that tiny sliver of success that set off another chain of discoveries and unanswered questions and the desire to seek out these answers. He knew the feeling of being different and the alienation that followed. Too smart, too clever, too different, do this and not that, this is acceptable and this isn’t, try harder, be quicker, be stronger – nothing would ever be enough. His familiarity with despair and self-hatred stood challenged by the God. They shared the moment of being untouched, a once Prince and a weapon’s manufacturer in order to keep America safe, before it crashed down with a simple lie and betrayal. But they stood back up, to prove themselves, to say I’m not the monster parents tell their children about at night and I’m not the so-called Merchant of Death I’ve been made out to be. I can lift Asgard from this time of despair of losing Thor and Odin and I can change my ways, my image for the better to keep the world safe my way. I can do it, I just need you to trust me, but Loki has always been the Liesmith and Rhodey could never count on Tony to show up for something as simple as an awards ceremony, Pepper can’t even rely on Tony to remember the one thing she’s allergic to. And for all their similarities, the paths they walked down are what made them so different. To stand above the rest as the hero and to fall into the nameless abyss as the villain, but people change and Tony knew that.

Loki stared, unblinking and silent, while he kept the philanthropist trapped between his wrists and bindings. He seemed calmer, but the brunette knew better and decided not to chance his life on the off chance Loki didn’t kill him because of a snarky comment hanging on his tongue. Instead he swallowed it, along with a hard knot sitting in his throat, and opted for a route with a presumably better – and livelier – outcome.

“Okay. Okay, I get it. Let me try and see this from your side,” he paused and with the silence asked permission to continue. Loki made no move to rip his vocal cords out through his throat, so Tony took that as some form of a “go on”. “Once upon a time, I bet you had a real level head on those shoulders, am I right? Calm and collected, the exact opposite of Thor’s once arrogant and reckless ways. You were smart and cunning and resourceful and crafty and above all not Thor. That just drives you nuts, I can see it even now you just want to kill me for saying that but wait until I’m finished okay?

“Point is, that stuff grates on you, weighs on you like some kind of fucking mountain crushing you, eats at you like a disease and when it gets too much you run away, because it’s easy. The farther you run, the further you get away from Thor’s shadow and ta-da, you’re your own man, traveling the galaxy with some fucked up aliens from the darkest corners of the universe with the glow stick of destiny claiming to rule worlds in the name of freedom. It’s great, too, right because you’re finally known as Loki, the villain, the ruler, the King because you deserve it.

“But here’s where it gets disappointing because you fail. We defeated your army, maybe not Thanos, not yet, but we kept the Earth safe from your reign and Thor took you back to Asgard. So unfair, why couldn’t we see the good in what you were doing? Every villain is a hero in his own mind, right? So Thor takes you back home and yikes, here comes the moment of truth, the ultimate decision and you’re exiled, forgotten. Now honestly, that’s a little messed up in my books to just forget someone, but again, not the point.

“You escaped, like you said, came back a year later to exact revenge, gained my power, and… what? Loki, where are you right at this very moment in your convoluted plan? Because I can’t tell if this is still part of something bigger that I can’t even imagine grasping or if you’ve absolutely failed and you’re running on the off chance that I might really fall and join you.”

If Tony had to guess what expression Loki wore at that moment, he would guess the God looked a little taken back at the monologue that tumbled out of the brunette’s mouth. Granted, he didn’t know much about the specifics, about Asgard and Loki’s life there, and no one but Loki knew about what transcended between him and the Chitauri, but this was his best guess, the only thing he had to offer in this airtight cage with an extremely dangerous immortal two inches from his face. Silence settled heavily between them, thick enough to drown in, and it was beginning to make the younger of the two fidget.

“Loki, why fall beneath those you wish respect and love from when you can rise above them and earn it the right way?” He chanced a few more words, and when the other only stared blankly back at him, Tony continued. “You’re impressive, I’ll admit that. I could fall in love with your magic because I don’t know how the fuck it works and I’d spend the rest of my life trying to pick it apart with science. You could challenge some of Earth’s greatest, smartest philosophers and inventors I’m sure. Granted, they’re dead, but… Loki, you can be so much better than you think you are, why continue on the path you’re on now? Why should you drag others down a path that doesn’t work, why don’t you let someone lead you down the right one?”

If the ceiling wasn’t lined with Stark Industries’ magic defying bullshit machinery, Loki would be worlds away by now. But curse these chains and the cage and this _mere man_ to Hel and back so he could murder him once more. He swallowed a hard knot in his throat and released a long withheld breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Slowly, almost like an overly cautious animal, he backed away from Tony, releasing his arms from their pinned position beside his head to lean back on his haunches once more with a pained curiosity stuck on his face.

Thor had attempted numerous times to drill his redemption spiel into his little not-brother’s head ever since he’d unceremoniously flew him off the Quinjet a year ago, but each time there was yelling and misunderstood contexts as if they were speaking of two different conversations and interruptions from the very man of iron in front of him and fighting. He didn’t need Thor, not anymore, not after the hundreds of years he’d spent trailing after him, pretending to be him, to be everything Loki wasn’t. A waste, an absolutely abominable waste of lies he wished to forget. No, where Thor lacked in words he made up for in actions and they both knew how that always ended up.

So here was a mortal attempting to do the very same, to coerce him from his troubled path of chaos and destruction, of which he was the very essence of in a God-like form, and rise up to… what? Heroism? Laughable, honestly, but he paid no mind to the words themselves, as newly formed as they were in his ears. It was more the feeling welling in his chest, a maddening affect that curled and caressed and soothed. Where Thor fumbled over his not-so thought out words and stated them with about as much wisdom as an ox, here was Tony, mortal in every way, a man of human magic who was trying to reach out. Familiarity filled him, a memory, or rather a bundle of them, bunching together into an unorganized mess inside his head. Who else had shown a firm amount of sympathy twisted in with light scolding when all others failed him?

No, Loki thought and strained to swallow; his mouth felt dry. Such sentiments were unnecessary and –

“Loki?” Tony spoke up again, softly this time, and reached a gentle hand forward to touch the other’s face.

Only when his calloused fingertips brushed against his cheek did he notice his skin felt damp and uncomfortable. It surprised him, although by now it really shouldn’t have, how easy it was for his body to betray him when his words were meant for wounding. Said words were stuck in his throat, a rarity amongst the silver tongued God, and instead there came an unnerved answer.

“Let me think on it.”

He retracted from the hand tracing away the weak stream of tears that had stopped flowing from his eyes and pushed back with the heels of his palms to the other side of the cage, where he had been before. Staring at Tony with narrowed eyes and a masked facial expression, he opened his mouth a crack as if to speak, then in afterthought turned from the brunette. He pulled himself down onto the floor and settled against the hard metal, showing nothing but the back of his tunic to Tony. His reflection was stretched and misshapen in the Plexiglas but the engineer made out the familiar crease of brows, the sad little frown on his lips. The brunette relaxed against the glass, slouching forward with saggy shoulders and a slow relieved sigh from his nose. Perhaps he would live to see another day yet.

_That was interesting._ The voice, having been rather quiet up until now, spoke with keen curiosity. Tony looked down at his sneakers and pressed his lips into a thin line. _Correct me if I am mistaken, but did you just ask him to join the good guys? Do you honestly believe you can succeed where Thor, his own kin, has failed? Dear little man of iron, this will end in ruins. I applaud your effort, however. You appealed to his better nature. You remind him of his mother._

Tony scrubbed his face with dry hands, running them back through his ruffled hair and let out a loud sigh. Had he just asked Loki to join the good guys in some round about sappy way of understanding and sympathy? Yes. Did he really think he could succeed where Thor, however always the vigilant in seeking his brother’s redemption, failed? Yes. Was this going to end in ruins? Fuck yes.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Time stood still in the capsule. It wasn’t as if there sat a conveniently placed clock on the wall, or someone to kindly remind their captives whenever the top of the hour had arrived, but if anything was to be expected it was someone to bring the mortal sharing his cage space some food at their given meal times. So far, no one had visited, but only a few hours had passed since Fury had condemned Tony Stark as still under a compromising position. Perhaps it wasn’t too far from the truth, Loki wasn’t quite sure himself.

Across the small threshold, the mortal nodded in and out of consciousness. Sleep tugged at his fluttering eyelids and heavyset head lolling to the side. He fought it, conflicted with the proposition of falling asleep with Loki so near, but at the moment it seemed as if the sandman had won this round. Tony breathed softly through slightly parted lips, head to one side and body slumped in a boneless manner against the glass. The raven-haired male stared at him through the reflective glass, running his words spoken no less than an hour ago through his mind like a broken record. Most of it sounded familiar; the chastising from Odin, Thor and his patronizing tone, mother’s soft scolding but light encouragement. There was something all together different about it coming from an outsider though, a man who was just a man, who knew very little of his life, but somehow understood it from a different life and another perspective. To say in the very least, it stunned Loki and he hated to admit that.

In fact it frightened him a little. Loki saw a mirror, a faint and strange reflection in Tony that he perceived as both comforting and unnerving. It carried cracks that split forth from the edges and webbed out towards the center, marring the otherwise perfect picture of the middle aged philanthropist. Fingerprints were pressed against it, smudged and smeared, and some things became unclear. Scratches, like fingernails, marked the low points of desperation in their lives. Dried trails of water for each unshed tear stained the reflective surface. Some form of rust, a rough and cruddy looking mess, blotted out the unfavorable moments in their lifetime, things forgotten – or at least they wished they could forget – and things untold. Yes, they mirrored one another in more ways then Loki wanted to recognize and Tony was a dull reminder whenever they caught each other’s eyes. So this reflection reached out to him, a rarity in occurrences, with familiar words with a Stark-like twist to them, and Loki was hesitant to meet the hand halfway.

How many different ways could Loki take advantage of this situation? The possibilities seemed endless and he mentally thumbed through each plan, each route to take to find the one that would serve him best. Would he truly besmirch this opportunity for his own selfish gain? With stiff limbs, the God turned onto his back and folded his hands neatly on his chest. Turning his head a fraction to the right, the still and sleeping form of Tony came into his peripheral view. His face twitched in his sleep, a slight muscle spasm near the left corner of his mouth, and his nose wrinkled before he settled again. The answer was obvious.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Another hour passed by and finally Tony found a new familiar face staring back at him. While Bruce Banner’s expression lacked in the joyful department, he managed a tightlipped smile as he padded towards the cell, two S.H.I.E.L.D. rookies following two steps behind him, with a Styrofoam tray full of food.

“It’s nice to see you all didn’t forget me down here,” Tony half-teased as he brought himself up to his feet. His legs were stiff and his knees popped as he stretched.

“It’s good to see you’re still alive,” Bruce replied, giving Loki a non-too discreet glance. “How are you holding up?”

The brunette pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow at the scientist. “Like you said, I’m still alive.”

The man offered a shrug. “I don’t particularly agree with this set up, but Fury’s word is law around here. Steve is trying to bargain with him, if that makes you feel any better.”

It did, it really did, but Tony wouldn’t let Bruce and definitely not his cell occupant see how much it affected him. However his reflection sported a grin and perhaps it was simply a stupid habit to do when he knew that good old Captain America had his back.

“Tell him thanks for me, will you?” He nodded to the heaping amount of food carefully balanced on the flimsy white tray. “That all for me?”

“Sort of,” and Bruce gave Loki another quick look. The God had pulled himself upright once more, sitting cross-legged with a thoughtful look on his face. “Thor insisted that I bring enough food for the both of you. But the blueberries are for you.”

The grin grew wider. “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite?”

“On numerous occasions, yes,” he chuckled, punching the code into the number pad. “I’m gonna have to ask you to stand back, please. Protocol.”

Tony stepped away from the glass doors, glancing at Loki in his peripheral. The door slid open with a smooth hiss and Bruce took a step inside the cylindrical cage to hand his friend the tray. It felt weird for both of them, but as the good doctor had said before - Fury’s word was law. As soon as Bruce retraced his path back outside the Plexiglas, one of the agents plugged the code back in and the doors were shut once more. The two men dressed clad in black military armor began to walk towards the exit, but Bruce hesitated in his retreat, keeping a worrisome eye on Tony.

“Are you going to be okay?” He asked.

If being locked up by the closest thing one could call a family was okay. If being locked up with a God with serious issues beyond what most mortals could imagine was okay. If not being able to even trust yourself because said self was hearing an unidentified voice in his head was okay.

“Sure.” The deadpan tone caused the brunette to frown, but he didn’t reply. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, turned on his heels and walked out without another word. There was nothing he could do, Tony knew that, but that didn’t stop the feeling of loneliness creeping in his gut.

He looked down at the flimsy tray of food. There, in the upper right corner, sat the metallic bag of blueberries he and Bruce shared so often during late night studies. Two entire apples had been cored and sliced into twelfths, most likely courtesy of Thor but he would swear Steve cut them. Tony snickered at the two sloppy sandwiches that seemed to carry every cold cut the refrigerator had to offer. Barton, it had to be him because Tony knew of no other human being who could make a sandwich look like a four-year-old made it and still look appealing enough to eat. Someone thought it would be cute to hand them two pudding cups – one chocolate, the other vanilla – without spoons, and the same problem could be said for the canned fruit. It’s the thought that counts.

Tony set the tray in the middle of the cage, if not a little more towards himself than Loki, and picked up the pint of water in the plastic container along with the bag of blueberries before sliding back against the wall opposite the God. They hadn’t spoken since his little monologue outburst, and quite honestly neither one of them could complain. If Tony wasn’t running his mouth and if Loki wasn’t crawling all over him, spitting acidic doubt into his brain well that was fine by both of them. While the brunette fiddled with the blueberries, Loki inched over enough to snatch a red skinned apple wedge off the Styrofoam platter. They chewed in silence. Tony polished off nearly half the bag of blueberries before one of them spoke.

“I have thought about it.”

The brunette stopped mid-chew, jaw clenched and crushing the once plump blueberry between his molars. In all honesty, he hadn’t thought Loki would think about his offer and had simply said it because Tony had flipped the entire conversation upside down. Slowly, the man lifted his head up so he could look the God into his emerald hues. He appeared rather satisfied with himself, for whatever reason that may be, as he took a graceful bite out of another apple wedge. A small trail of juice dipped between the scar that seemed to split his lower lip into two halves, and the pink appendage darted out across the thin strip of flesh to lick it up. Tony swallowed hard, the single blueberry straining down his throat.

“Have you?” Loki nodded. “And?”

“What is your motive?”

Tony blinked, a bit put off by the question. “What?”

“I sincerely doubt you are doing this out of the goodness of your metal heart, so what is your motive – what will you gain from my… redemption?”

“Ouch,” Tony screwed up his face. “Is it so hard for you to believe that I could actually care?”

Loki quirked an elegant eyebrow. “I have attempted world domination through a full scale alien invasion, destroyed your beloved city, killed presumably hundreds, and have come back a year later to seek revenge and retribution through controlling your mind and heart. I feel no regret towards what I have done and – ” he paused to face away from Tony then, “ – nothing of sentimental value keeps me rooted here, so why offer and why should I accept? It will only end in ruin, surely a man of your intelligence knows that.”

The engineer narrowed his eyes, as if the gesture would allow him the special power of reading through Loki. He had a point, a good one too, but something seemed off.

“The same thing could be said for you. Why even waste time thinking about it if it’ll blow up in our faces anyway?”

“I would revel in such chaos,” Loki turned his attention back to Tony. “And I like to weigh out my options, despite the inevitable.”

“Let me guess – if you accept my help and take the route to candy land and smiles, Mommy might love you again.”

The apple wedge whined quietly as the lithe fingers wrapped around it and squeezed, squeezed until the carcass burst into nothing but slimy applesauce and sticky juice. Oh, that was a nerve Tony knew better than to strike.

“If I accept your help I will finally fulfill my long desired notion that crushing the life out of you would be the most pleasurable sensation in all the nine realms.” His calm and collected demeanor, despite the apple crushing hand, did not match his frenzied sentence.

“Oh, well we aren’t letting you out with those manners.” He would admit it, picking at the Mommy wound was a bit low, but Loki was two zilch in low blows and Tony wanted to get in a few punches too. “All jokes aside, I’m serious – don’t give me that look – I realize that everyone around you seems like a big disappointment. Let someone in for a change, it might make you feel better, hell you might even – ”

There had been no way around the sloppy mess of the apple wedge remains that came hurtling into his face mid-sentence. A thick, semi-solid chunk slid down the engineer’s cheek slowly, dripped off the side of his beard now half caked in fruit carcass.

“That was uncalled for.”

“ _That_ made me feel better,” Loki quipped with a smirk. “I do not need your sympathies.”

“Okay, let’s go back to when I was mind controlled, but in a second because this is seriously gross,” Tony scowled and used one flimsy excuse for a napkin to wipe the crushed apple off his cheek and out of his beard. “Look I remember everything, we’re both aware of this. I remember the chaos and destruction, and for the record I’m not ever going to forgive you for destroying half of fucking Magic Kingdom. But that’s not the point, the world is going to remember all of that, the week and a half when Tony Stark lost his shit and went on a chaotic spree with war criminal Loki Laufeyson. The world won’t ever know about the handful of moments you let yourself become vulnerable, if even for a few seconds. I’ve seen the way you look at me when I ask about your magic or what’s next on your list of Important Midgardian Landmarks to Destroy, or hell if I just look at you, talk to you, _notice_ you – ”

“I am not some attention starved ingrate – ”

“Oh because that isn’t what being King is about? Billions of people respecting you, loving you and at what cost? Fear? That isn’t the same as respect Loki, not by a long shot. You will be worshipped on the grounds of fear, in hopes that if they love you enough you won’t kill them, but it won’t ever be enough for you because it isn’t sincere. I am being sincere to you, right now. I’m not mind controlled, no one’s forcing me, and I have no ulterior motives. What’s stopping you from being a better person? Daddy says he’s disappointed in you once and all of a sudden it’s down the road to villainy? Tell him he can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine and prove him wrong.”

“Does that not get tiresome?” Loki asked, and his voice carried a tinge of something Tony couldn’t quite place. Weariness, perhaps? “Do you not become so frustrated with trying to achieve your goal a particular way that you do not give up but try a different route? Tell me, Stark, would you not feel the futile weight of failure after centuries of trying? When you have mastered something no other Aesir has come close to perfecting and you are met with no form of recognition, when your truths are naught but lies in matters of importance, when a kingdom has fallen to you and sincere efforts go to waste because you are nothing but a _shadow_ – will that weight not _crush_ you? If one direction does not take you to your desired destination, you try another.”

“Yeah, but you literally went the opposite direction. There are more directions than just up and down, sport.”

“When the shade stretches on forever, you go towards the source and then past it.”

“Or sideways.”

Loki blinked, physically pulling back against the glass in faint surprise at the answer. “What?”

“Sideways. Just move out of the way. Like I said, there are more directions than just up and down. Being Thor’s opposite might have sounded like a good idea because now you can be everything he isn’t, but I think you’re still fumbling around square one. Are you achieving your destination this way? I understand you haven’t had centuries to fail at it, but is this something you want to do for that long?”

The God narrowed his eyes, tilting his head upwards to stare at the mortal through his lashes. “What is your point?”

“Let’s go sideways, let’s try something different, something new and not alone because trust me you need people to help you along the way, even if everything you do makes them want to throw you off a cliff. If they stay, they’re worth it.”

The question presented itself to Loki once more; how many different ways could he take advantage of this situation? To take the metaphorical outstretched hand and let himself be blindly led to a world unknown to him; it wouldn’t be the first time. Perhaps halfway down the road, when trust and bonds were formed, he would bite the hand that feeds. Oh yes, that sounded much more like the Loki everyone had learned to hate. He pressed his lips together into a thin line.

“Do you trust me?”

Tony looked to be mulling the question over in his head. “No. I’m not that reckless.”

“Oh, I would be insulted if you did though,” Loki chuckled. “Yet your offer still stands?”

“I never said I make the best decisions.”

No, he certainly didn’t. The God sniffed, turning away from the mortal to stare out at the closed metal doors at the far end of the room. Tony would be his ticket out of here with enough patience, and in the end, in that moment of ruin, Loki would make sure this man regretted everything that had come to be between them in his dying breath.

“I accept your offer,” he said dryly. “Now how will you convince your friends of this brilliant plan?”

“You leave that to me.” Because if the Avengers could count on anyone to have the worst possible idea of getting the embodiment of chaos on their side, it would be Tony Stark.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Steve Rogers marched down the hallway with his back painfully straight and limbs forcibly stiff. In the last hour and a half he had, by some degree, negotiated with Director Fury on Tony Stark’s current disposition. As difficult as the meeting had been, Steve made a B-Line to the cell holding his best friend and worst enemy with a plan. Unknown to him as he walked into the dark prison-like room, Tony had the same idea; a plan.

To say that Tony was happy to see the blonde haired male would be an understatement. While he didn’t carry himself as if he were the bearer of good news, it lifted Tony’s spirits up just enough. The Styrofoam tray still sat between him and Loki with two untouched sandwiches, a full pint of water, the two pudding and fruit cups, and two browning apple wedges. Tony walked past it, meeting Steve at the front of the glass like a puppy watching people pass by the window of the pet store.

“I have a plan.” The two men blinked as they spoke simultaneously, and Steve’s face fell as he was well aware of what happened whenever Tony had a plan.

“Let me just say I’ve just spent the last hour and a half in a meeting room with Fury, and it was not an easy feat.”

“And let me just say I’ve spent the last five-ish hours in a small glass tube with him,” Tony jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to Loki. “But I honestly don’t know whose had it worse. How was mister grumpy gills?”

“Not happy, especially with the fact that you’ve been hiding things from him, but then again when don’t you? He wants Bruce to do a psychiatric test on you, along with a few other things but Dr. Banner assures us that even if he did he wouldn’t pick up on whatever is going on in your head because it’s magic. Thor seconded, and now Fury wants to keep you in here but I don’t want you anywhere near him.” Steve shot Loki an angry glare before falling on Tony’s innocent expression. “Something tells me I’m not going to agree with your plan.”

“Probably not, but finish up with yours.”

“I want you under my surveillance twenty-four seven, and Fury initially said no until Natasha volunteered to keep you under her watch as well. Throw in weekly check-ups with Banner and you’ve got yourself a semi-free ticket out of the cage.”

“Awesome, that’s actually not too far from what I want actually!” Steve gave him one skeptical look to end all skeptical looks. “But instead of you and Widow, I was kind of hoping for Thor and Barton. And maybe not just me being free, but Loki too.”

“Tony, you’re – ”

“Ah, ah, no Steve listen, please,” Tony lifted his eyebrows up, nodding to emphasize that he still had more to say. “He’ll be my responsibility, alright? I just want to give him a chance – don’t interrupt me. I know what you’re thinking, that I’m not thinking straight and maybe I’m not, but I am… that didn’t make any sense. But I’m not under the influence of the voice in my head, okay? It’s actually been pretty quiet since you all shoved me in here with this loon. I legitimately want to give him a chance, the chance we’ve all had that have shaped us into who we are. You got your chance with the serum, with my dad’s help. Bruce got his second chance with this team, Thor during his banishment, and me after I was captured in the Middle East. We had them, I want to give him one.”

Steve would be the hardest to convince that this was some semblance of an okay idea, let alone a good one. He may not voice it as loudly and crudely as Barton, but he hated Loki just as much; New York was his city, his home, and Coulson… well that didn’t need to be discussed, ever. But if anything were to sway Steve it would be the old underdog routine, the chance to make a difference because someone, out of everyone he’d ever met, finally gave him that chance.

“I don’t think you need me to tell you this is a stupid idea,” Steve paused to inhale deeply, letting out a long sigh afterwards. “But I can’t say it’s one of the stupidest I’ve heard come out of your mouth.”

“So you’re half okay with this?” Tony bounced on the balls of his heels. Half okay was better than outright hating the idea.

“I suppose,” he pulled his eyes away from the brunette to stare at the God, who stared up at the ceiling with peculiar interest. “And what about you?”

“What about me, Captain?” He teased in return.

There was something about Loki talking with Steve that rubbed Tony the wrong way. He couldn’t legitimately forgive Loki for ordering him to kill Steve. Somewhere in his gut, an unnamed fear churned as well, a fear that Loki might actually kill Steve, like he killed Coulson, to prove a point. In Coulson’s case, the point proved that the Chitauri, Loki’s darkness, and now the death of an innocent friend fell on Thor’s shoulders alone. Perhaps, to knock Tony down a peg or fifty, he would kill Steve. Tony fidgeted, resisting the urge to move between Loki’s eyesight to Steve.

“How can we trust you?” Could one even trust the God of Lies?

“You have my word.” It took every fiber in Tony’s being not to laugh. “And custody over my magic,” he held up his wrists. “So if I were to kill any one precious being in this cesspool, I would have no means of immediate escape nor a way to control the hearts and minds of others.”

Steve pressed his lips together into a tight line, putting his attention back on Tony. His eyes seemed to be searching for something, anything to make him doubt the philanthropist, to say no because this was a really stupid plan that would end up blowing up in their faces.

“Are you sure about this?” He’d ask one more time, just to make sure.

No. _No_. “Yeah, I know what I’m doing.”

Steve nodded, turning on his heel. “I’ll go speak with Fury.”

“Thanks Steve, I owe you.”

He didn’t want Tony to thank him though. Why thank someone who would play a part in something that sounded as if it would end in the destruction of a beloved friend? The Captain just smiled at Tony, prayed to his God that he was wrong and Tony had worked out every formula in his head, and walked out to talk to Fury again.


	12. Chapter 12

There naturally came absolute outrage following the deliverance of Tony Stark’s brilliant plan. Half of the team trusted Tony as best they could muster, defending against the other half of the team who thought nothing more of him than just a tool for the God. One lonely agent took to the neutral side of everything.

“I told you putting Tony in with that fuc– ” A glare from Thor said Clint needed to rethink his words. “That maniac was a bad idea! Loki’s messed with his head and now he wants out!”

But Steve came to his defense and retorted, “No, he’s fine – for the most part. He isn’t under Loki’s spell, he can’t do magic in there we know that.”

“What about the magic that’s still lingering?” Asked Natasha, who may have been well and calm about the situation but her rigid stance in the corner of the lounge put her off.

“It isn’t enough to control Tony,” Bruce assured.

“I want you to run any and all tests you can on him Dr. Banner,” Fury ordered and opened his mouth to say more before the good doctor snapped back at him.

“Tony isn’t some lab rat!” His sweet honey brown eyes darkened dangerously and flitted to green for the duration of a half second. Bruce pressed his lips together and took a deep, slow breath through the nose. He held it, willing his inner beast to keep calm, and when he made sure he had swallowed down a violent urge he let the breath go through his mouth. “I can run all the same tests I ran him through in the beginning, they’ll be useless.”

“We can’t just let them out,” Clint growled.

“Not without ground rules at least,” added Natasha.

Maria Hill, who took her place beside Fury, glanced at Thor. He merely watched the bickering from afar, massive arms crossed over his chest and expression seemingly indifferent.

“You’re awfully quiet Thor,” she said, nodding in his direction. “This concerns you quite a bit.”

He looked over to Maria, if only to acknowledge that she had spoken, and said nothing. There was a definite conflict with the plan, both Steve’s and Tony’s, and in all honesty he preferred the latter of the two. All things obvious aside, Thor wanted this to be the deciding factor between the Avengers and his brother. If he misbehaved this one last time, he would take the younger of the two back to Asgard with the weight of knowing that not even a mortal could sate him. But he held on to this hope, that someone as intuitive and clever as Tony could match Loki and in doing so change him as it had Thor. He waited until the room quieted to voice his statement, for now he continued his watch diligently.

The conversation, albeit more of an argument, ended in dirty conflict and an unhappy batch of people but when all was said and done Fury gave Steve the reluctant permission to see this through. They would all keep their eyes on Tony and in turn watch Loki harder than a hawk. At no time were they to be left alone, not even to separate from one another because the point of Tony’s plan would then be lost. Green level access, the most basic and simple, was permitted, but they had to ask an Avengers and give a valid reason – hacking S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database did not make it onto the list of validness. In short, Tony had their (shared) bedroom with the accompaniment of two agents outside the door, the lounge, and the occasional visit to Bruce’s small medic lab to turn “Loki’s frown upside down” as Clint so jokingly put it. In all seriousness, everyone was present when they let Loki and Tony free. Guns, shields, and hammers were ready should either one of them try anything funny. Thor handled Loki with a firm, heavy hand on his shoulder as Steve walked into the chamber to cuff the other occupant. Regulations and all that, he said, and Tony rolled his eyes in Fury’s direction. Before anyone left the room, and that moment couldn’t come soon enough for anyone, the Director went over the ground rules.

The accompaniment of an Avenger or senior agent at all times is not negotiable. As much as it turned into a babysitting job, Steve volunteered first but Tony turned him down. Captain America was the leader, not the babysitter, and therefore couldn’t afford to spend so much time with the two of them; or so Tony prattled off. The brunette caught Loki’s conniving grin and blew his lie to kingdom come. The truth of the matter? Tony really hated Steve being anywhere near the psychotic God, despite his plans for rehabilitation. When Thor raised his hand next, the grin on Loki’s face vanished to something close to malice. In the end, they agreed to take daily shifts so no one person carried the brunt of the work.

Every Avenger held red level access cards and could very well use it to get most anywhere. Tony and Loki were barely allowed green level access, and without a good reason were sanctioned to the public areas of the base. Stealing them would do little good to them, even if Tony managed to slap his picture on one. Every agent knew the restrictions and only Fury could lift said restrictions. Legitimate reasons included visiting Bruce Banner for a check-up per request from Banner himself, attending a meeting, or using the training room for specified reasons.

Handcuffs were to stay on at all times, no exceptions. Loki kept the anti-magic cuffs around his wrists and Tony sported a shiny pair of government assigned cuffs that chaffed against his wrists as he fidgeted. He could pick the lock and debated whether or not he should chance it while they slept. He desperately wanted both hands free if a certain someone became hostile given Tony’s flawless record of taking things too far, speaking too much when silence was better preferred, and generally being a gnat about sore subjects.

While Fury hadn’t set a timeline to change Loki’s dark heart, if it were even possible, he did require a weekly report of how things were going. It sounded too much like family counseling and he hoped the Director didn’t expect anything more than a few vague answers and snappy remarks. Honestly, this was Tony Stark and Loki Laufeyson they were talking about, how specific did one believe they would be towards the not-so-keenly adored authority figurehead?

Loki’s heckling needed to be ignored under any circumstances – a rule better situated for the team. It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone if he used this opportunity to turn everyone against each other, to get underneath their skin and start a ruckus to distract them from the real problem. Tony promised he’d be too busy working the God’s mind for him to get a word with anyone else, but they knew better. If anyone was more invited to said heckling, it would be Tony who had the pleasure of being his twenty-four hour, seven day a week companion. His persistent picking at their wounds would not be met with violence; it would only drive Loki further. The only reason for violence was violence itself from the other party; sedate, detain, and reprimand.

“Should any of these rules be broken or not met to its fullest extent, we will all be back at square one,” Fury noted, nodding towards the cylindrical cage for emphasis. “And one of you will earn a one way ticket to Asgard – I hope I don’t have to specify which one of you that is.”

One corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, but other than that he let nothing else slip. Tony shook his head, sighing loudly as he shifted his weight from one leg to the next as he stood between Steve and Loki. Everything settled into a palpable tension for a good, long ten seconds before the group received their dismissal.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

Natasha took the first shift. Tony still refused to let Steve volunteer, at least first, and Thor didn’t ask again, as he wished to observe at a later time. He believed they would get nowhere with him looming about; Loki was sure to give him his full, undivided, and cruel attention rather than pay any mind to Tony. Clint was decidedly too on edge to be given a shift just yet, as justified by Fury, and Bruce decided on his own that he just wasn’t ready. Maria had a meeting, and Fury was designated to go with her, leaving Natasha the only viable candidate and she didn’t seem to mind.

The day neared midnight, as Tony eventually found out, and the three of them sat in the lounge in a humdrum silence. The redheaded assassin busied herself at the kitchenette, preparing a colorful salad as Tony and Loki sat wordlessly at the boxy table. The God settled his hands on the table’s top, folded neatly over one another. He stared blankly at the billionaire in front of him, expression bleak and unreadable. Tony tapped his fingers on the table, brushed them through his hair and dryly rubbed his face before tapping on the table again. He needed to shave, he needed air not this recycled oxygen from elsewhere, and most of all he needed alcohol. Perhaps if he asked nicely someone would allow him a razor but anything else on his list of needs would be on hold until some trust was replanted. Unfortunately, trust plants were going to take an awful long time to grow with this weed hanging around. Speaking of Loki, he seemed awfully calm about this.

“Stark,” he spoke his name like a curse and maybe, by this time, it was. “Where is this brilliant plan of yours?”

Right. The plan, the plan to end all plans, the brilliant plan, the A plus plan with the Tony Stark seal of approval on it. It would be easier if they didn’t have these restrictions limiting him, but he would make due. If he could make a shoddy but workable arc reactor in a cave, he would make due with swaying Loki into a not-so criminally insane deity in a cave.

The plan went a little bit like this in Tony’s head: freedom, salvation, and reconstruction. Short, sweet, and to the point. Currently, they sat halfway through the freedom plan and would get no further until they worked on the salvation part. Tony could work around that, but it left him with fewer options than he had originally thought. He and Loki tended to be more of a hands-on type of crowd, whereas talking sometimes did the trick and sometimes ended worse than when they started. Unfortunately, talking seemed to be his only option at this point, unless he could disguise it as something else. But who the hell was Tony to think he could play shrink with Loki? In the end, it all came down to how the billionaire approached the situation. He had to be different from Thor or else everything would fall and nothing would be accomplished and Loki could say goodbye to whatever ounce of freedom he had left as he zipped off to Asgard.

The reconstruction step, should salvation actually work, did exactly what the step stated. Rebuilding relationships, rebuilding trust, rebuilding the inner sanctum that was Loki’s mind, and quite literally rebuilding what the two of them had broken around the world. That plan, however, would be much later if, of course, Tony didn’t manage to fuck up step two.

Step two revolved around three things; family problems, Loki as a whole, and Tony. Talking about Loki’s family was mentally moved to the bottom of the list, as it seemed to strike an unhealthy cord in the God’s nerves. Eventually, it would be touched upon, if only lightly, because mother dearest would most definitely serve as leverage in Tony’s plan. Until now, that left only Loki and Tony as conversation topics and who else did the brunette love talking about more but himself?

_How humble of you._ The voice inside his head sneered, and Tony had almost forgotten about it. With Loki around, it was quiet and sated, only adding in its one-sided two cents rarely. Who else was he going to talk about, Loki? No, only Loki could talk about Loki and that would take some easing into or a lot of frustrated casual slips of the tongue.

“Why do you care about what I have planned?” Asked Tony after a prolonged silence. “Don’t you think it’s gonna fail anyway?”

“Of course,” Loki nodded before leaning forward an inch. “But this is a plan from the infamous Tony Stark, is it not? It must be different, then, from all others who have extended their pitifully helpful hands to me.”

“Not different enough to succeed though.”

“No, not at all,” Loki smirked, gesturing his hands to Tony. “Oh, but by all means do try. It leaves for an amusing impression afterwards.”

“Why won’t I succeed?” Tony shifted in his seat. The comment insulted him; Tony Stark doesn’t fail because failing, in his books, means giving up. He won’t give up on this.

“One who seeks help, accepts it. One who does not, will not. It is that simple.”

The brunette let a chuckle slip before saying, “And you think you don’t seek help?”

From the rather unexpectedly emotional conversation they had had in the cell several hours before, Tony would call bullshit based on that account. Loki held a pinched expression, narrowing his eyes at the man before tilting his chin up to peer down at him.

“Are you assuming I do?”

Oh Tony knew he did. “You came to me about two weeks ago.”

“To obtain the knowledge of your arc reactor.”

“For help.”

“For fun,” Loki corrected.

“For help,” Tony pressed firmly. “According to your story, the Chitauri helped you escape your exile, and I’m sure it wasn’t out of the kindness of their hearts. Something tells me Thanos is still on your trail, demanding recompense for your failure.”

The God let out a harsh bark of a laugh. “And you think I would have chosen _you_ as an ally against him? He would break you like a pathetic twig, you would be a laughable shield.”

In all honesty, Loki would’ve gone to Thor, not with his scepter or magic, but with his faux love. Thor would never turn him down, not ever again, and he would try to best Thanos, perhaps even involve the Avengers, and maybe goad Loki into fighting along side with him but in the end Thor and his friends would be nothing more than tools. With Thanos gone, Loki would be free to travel the universe, cause mischief, and eventually devise a new plan on becoming king. By himself, this time, and not with the aid of some otherworldly beasts. No, Loki wouldn’t use Tony to defeat Thanos, at least not just the two of them anyway.

“Okay, I get it,” Tony simply nodded, accepting defeat in his opinion before moving to the second. “So I think I can say indefinitely that you were lonely.”

Oh not this again. “Why is this a popular assumption from you? Do you think yourself that much above others? I am over a thousand years old, Stark, and you think, within those thousand years, I have not managed to gain allies from other realms other than my own? I am avoided due to my troublesome nature, not because I am compared to a plague, and – as you have proven – some people enjoy a bit of trouble.”

Natasha didn’t say anything from the counter as she finished preparing her meal. She saw Tony shirtless, and you would have to be blind not to see the trail of hickeys down his neck, across his chest, around the reactor, and disappearing into places she’d rather not think about. No one had said anything about it to Tony, yet, and he was betting that everyone was simply waiting for that awkward, inconvenient time to press the question. He listened for Natasha to stop moving around in the kitchen to say something, and when she didn’t he mentally thanked her. His sex life, while not entirely private, would always be questionable, even to Tony sometimes.

“That isn’t the point I’m trying to make,” Tony said. “I mean, and excuse the metaphor, there is no Thor in your life anymore. As you said, you’re over a thousand years old, and throughout a huge chunk of those years you’ve been with Thor, a constant, ever-loving brother. But shit happened, and now, for some reason, you’ve completely disowned yourself from your family – ah! Don’t interrupt me. There is a terrible rift between you and Thor now, and you don’t have him anymore, not the way it used to be. So, in that respect, you are lonely.”

“You are incredibly conceded,” Loki said with a steel voice, and in Tony’s head the voice mimicked him in unison. “To believe I would choose you to replace someone like Thor.”

Tony struck the family cord again, despite using Thor as a simple metaphor, but this time Loki wasn’t backing down.

“You will never amount to him, in any aspect – no man will. They will try, oh and many have, but all have failed as expected. It would be beyond insulting if I chose a _mortal_ to replace Thor, insulting to even think about replacing him when he is always so persistent in mending our relationship. No one will fill that black space in my heart, and if you believe for a moment you can I would rip the flesh from your bones.”

Unexpected, sure, but they were getting somewhere because if that wasn’t a roundabout way of telling Tony he still loved his big brother, then he wasn’t sure what was. Loki, eyes wide, seemed to realize he’d said a little too much.

“I was using him as a metaphor, I meant you miss that constant someone to turn to. It doesn’t have to be Thor,” Tony spoke quickly because he could see it, in Loki’s body language, that his little outburst caused him to retreat into his shell. “I think you thought it could be me, because I tried to talk to you before kicking your ass, to prove I’m not like the rest, right?”

But the raven-haired God resigned to nothing more than a blank stare, giving nothing away. He pulled his lips into a thin line, showing nothing but stretched scars, and straightened himself against the back of his uncomfortable chair. His hands slipped off the table and settled into his lap with a small chink of his chains, and that was the end of the conversation.

Tony finally bit the bullet and let Steve babysit the next day. In his mother hen like fashion, he asked Tony how he felt, if he ate, if he slept well, and how “Project Heroes” fared. The brunette replied with short answers, quick and irritated. How does one feel when he’s being kept under strict surveillance by his friends who won’t trust him enough to even take apart the toaster? He also asked if swallowing his gum was considered eating and if a five-minute nap on the lounge couch before Loki woke him up by pinching his nipple counted as sleep. All in all, after the first conversation went down the tubes “Project Heroes” wasn’t faring too well. It would take time, he knew that, but it was damn frustrating with his surroundings being S.H.I.E.L.D. of all things.

Steve took Tony and Loki to one of the training rooms so he could plow through his daily routine. While Captain Rogers punched the life out of his punching bag, the two men had their second real conversation outside of the cell. They sat in brown metal folding chairs against the wall, giving them a full view of the entire training facility and Steve’s profile. He wore a white tank top that clung to him as the sweat rolled and pooled into the divots of his skin. From where they were sitting, they had a great view of the healing outline of Tony’s bite mark. The brunette ignored it, but Loki, oh he didn’t miss a beat.

“I think if you had killed him, the spell would have manifested itself fully into your heart and mind,” he prattled off as if the conversation were a normal one. “Pity really.”

Tony clenched his jaw, biting his tongue to keep an acid remark from slipping through. This was the exact reason why Steve shouldn’t have been allowed to watch over them. But he swallowed it down and talked himself into a calm stupor because fighting with Loki wouldn’t solve anything.

“Is it because you’re jealous of him?” Tony leaned against the cool, hard back of the chair and tilted it back with the heel of his foot so it balanced on its two back legs.

Loki let out a low chuckle. “You assume such asinine ideas, Stark. Pray tell, why should I be jealous of the soldier?”

 “Why not? Hell, I’m jealous of the guy. He’s like walking perfection – perfect body, perfect manners, perfect morals, perfect soldier, perfect best friend. I mean, he can be a real stick in the mud sometimes, but his heart is always in the right place.” He spared a glance at Loki, who couldn’t have looked any more uninterested. “No, that’s too general. From a personal standpoint, I don’t think I’d ever trust anyone else to have my back. We fight, we have different views on many things, but the one thing we have in common is that we support each other. No one supports you, do they? Well, I did, back when my head was screwed on backwards, and I’m trying to support you in a different direction if that matters.”

“It does not.” The hard, steely voice again. Tony touched a nerve.

“Of course not. So why kill him? Why make me kill Steve? Why not the Hulk, I mean he pretty much redecorated my floor with your godly imprint. Oh, or Clint because man does he have it out for you. Black Widow seemed to burn you pretty good when you were in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s custody the first time – that had to be pretty embarrassing, but Steve? The hell did he ever do to you, stand up to you in Stuttgart? That shouldn’t be a big deal, right?”

Steve meant the most to him and still did, even brainwashed. He wanted to kill Steve, to please Loki, because he meant the most to him. He bore his brown eyes into the side of Loki’s head until the God nudged Tony’s teetering chair with his ankle and fell over as it tipped his unbalanced weight, and that was the end of the conversation.

That night, with persistence from Steve, Tony attempted to get some sleep. Sharing the bedroom with Loki didn’t sit well with the Captain, but what else were they going to do? He took up his post outside, ever diligent and watchful of something out of place, while he friend slept soundly with an otherworldly murderer. Yes, that sounded pleasant, and Steve sighed to himself, furrowing his eyebrows. He hadn’t missed the marks on his neck either, in fact he had been the first to spot them as he and Thor had torn his helmet to shreds below Stark Tower. Brainwashed, he told himself.

Of course, Steve had nothing to worry about because Loki wouldn’t even let Tony stay on the bed for more than ten seconds.

“You’re being very immature about this,” Tony huffed as he threw himself onto the armchair – the stiffest armchair in the world, Tony noted – after being pushed off the bed a fifth time. His body was getting awfully tired of meeting the floor so forcefully.

Loki didn’t reply, or rather refused to, and swiftly turned his back to the brunette as he settled as comfortably as he could on top of the sheets. Tony rolled his eyes. If Loki thought this silent treatment was going to deter him in his plans to helping the God, he was sorely mistaken.

A half-hour passed and soon the only sound filling the room were calm, raspy breathes from the bed. Tony slowly pushed himself off the armchair, and with a bitter sigh of relief. He stepped around the bed quietly, checking to see if the God really had fallen asleep. Loki twitched lightly in his sleep. The corners of his mouth pulled downward and his fingers tensed and curled, and every so often a soft groan left his scarred lips. Tony wondered what sort of dreams, or nightmares, plagued him – maybe he was trying to choke the life out of the philanthropist but Tony wouldn’t shut up. With slow steps and careful movements, Tony crawled onto the bed and took his place next to Loki, mimicking the way he remembered doing so in his uncontrollable moments. If the voice in his head had a mouth, it would have opened to speak, to goad the mind in which it lived now, but the brunette moved all on his own and left the voice, instead, gaping silently. One arm underneath the God’s head, fingers tangling in the inky strands of hair, while the other hand held his cheek. The chain to the handcuffs strained between them.

Loki dreamt of silence. Every bit of color washed away in a faded gray fog hanging low and foreboding in the quiet forest. A chilling wind gripped him, wrapped icy fingers around him, and pulled him into a deathly embrace. Cradled between death and silence, Loki scratched at the thick thread sewn through his lips, worked his jaws, and scrunched his eyes shut in frustration. It wasn’t until he felt an unfamiliar, but at the same time an all-too familiar breath of warmth that he reopened them. It chased away the ghostly fingers and beckoned Loki with sweet promises. In the horizon, there came a soft blue light, rising like the sun. He reached out to touch it and it was solid, smooth. Like glass. Like metal. Like iron. Calming warmth replaced the unsettling cold and held him, whispered things he couldn’t hear into his ear, and soothed away the chaos in his mind.

When Loki woke, the blue didn’t fade away but intensified. The warmth was palpable, heavy around his head and face. Long, foreign fingers curled around the circle of light. They weren’t foreign, they were his, he could feel the reactor humming and, oddly enough, beating much like a real heart underneath the appendages. A free hand came up to touch his lips to make sure the thread had only been a dream, and a semi-relieved sigh followed when all he felt were scars. He closed his eyes again and didn’t bother to push Tony off the bed again, at least not until the man awoke. While he wouldn’t admit it, not aloud nor to himself, his arms were a strange, but welcomed comfort.

Morning came to them around eleven o’ clock, and Loki woke once more to the solid warmth and comforting glow. Tony was already conscious and ran his fingers through Loki’s hair soothingly, pausing every so often to rub his scalp gently. It reminded him of the many times he had fallen asleep at their hideout, exhausted but content with the day’s destruction and woke up to find his ever loyal bodyguard huddled next to him to chase away the nightmares. For a moment, Loki relaxed into Tony’s hold and almost nestled closer to his chest until reality swiped him across the face. He pushed the man off the bed with two firm palms pressed violently against Tony’s chest.

“What the hell?” Tony groaned, stretching a hand behind his back to rub the sore spot.

“I could very well ask you the same question.” Came the groggy reply. “Did the first five times I shoved you away not convey the message to you?”

“You can be a real stubborn ass when you want to be,” he grumbled as he pulled himself up from the floor. He leaned on the bed for leverage and heard the God chuckle into the pillow. Yeah, that was the plan.

Bruce volunteered next. He wanted a blood sample from Tony, or rather that was his excuse to Director Fury. When Tony and Loki arrived Bruce sat the brunette down, took a vial’s worth of blood and put a drop or two underneath the microscope. Afterwards, he let Tony tinker around with some of the things in the lab for fun. With a pair of tweezers, he prodded at the cursed arc reactor carefully. The chip still held an alien glow, the same that swam through his bloodstream and twinkled in his eyes. There, Tony and Loki held their third conversation.

“So what happens if I were to touch this?” Tony asked, glancing up at Loki who took his place at the door.

Clearly uncomfortable, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hadn’t been overly pleased with Bruce being their watchful eye for the day and had counted on Thor coming up as the third player in this weird little game, but his not-brother had other business to deal with. So he would be stuck here until Tony got bored, which would be never after having been away from his tinker toys for what seemed like ages. Loki glanced at the arc reactor on the exanimation table, held up by prongs inside a Plexiglas box with the top lifted open. The urge to snatch it and plunge it into Tony’s chest was overwhelming but with that _beast_ in the room the urge shrank into an irritating itch.

“Nothing,” replied Loki. “It must touch your heart to do anything of vital importance.”

“But I wouldn’t,” Bruce chimed in, glancing up from the microscope to give Tony _that_ look. The look that said whatever he was thinking was definitely a bad idea and he would very much appreciate it if he didn’t do that thing he was thinking of especially when he wasn’t suppose to be playing around in the first place.

“I won’t,” Tony patronized lightly.

_Little man of iron, you are teasing him._ The voice startled the brunette and he flinched, only Loki noticed. _Toying with such a prize in front of him like this. Look at him._

“The level of… magic, whatever it is, seems to be going down – ” Bruce started.

**_Look at him_**. It interrupted and Tony rolled his eyes up at Loki. _He craves the power he once held over you, the destruction you two wrought together, the glory. If you believe you can get to him through sentiment, you are sadly mistaken. It is through this bond we share that he will listen._

“Tony,” Bruce snapped, worriedly gazing over his tools. “Are you listening?”

No, and still his attention stood with Loki. Unable to tear his eyes away, the God’s eyes seemed to shine with a knowledge he didn’t wish to share, a dirty little secret that had the corners of his mouth curling upwards in the slightest of smirks.

_Take it._ The voice instructed, not so disembodied anymore. It felt like a separate entity now, standing right behind him, hands upon his own, guiding him blindly as Tony lost himself in Loki’s eyes. _Embrace it._

There came a loud, echoing slam in front of him and Tony blinked rapidly, flinching backwards as Dr. Banner suddenly stood next to him. His hand sat on the lid of the container, closed now, and he stared accusingly at Tony.

“What just happened?” He asked, but the question was meant for the God in the room.

“Something extraordinary,” Loki grinned, baring teeth. Bruce snapped his head around and he held up his hands defensively. “And unexpected. I did not think Tony would react to the spell without its incursion.”

The feeling of another behind him vanished and all that remained was the disembodied voice. _Damn._

“You mean the voice in my head is reacting to it,” the brunette corrected. “Awesome. Do you have some connection with it?”

“No. Of course, I can not know for sure with these on,” he held up his wrists, jingling with the chains of Stark Industries’ Anti-Magic handcuffs. Who knew Thor and Tony could come up with something so incredibly irritating together. “As I said, it is a piece of me that refused to let go when the arc reactor separated from you. In theory, I should have a connection with it.”

He shook his wrists once more, but Tony’s curiosity – while a death wish – didn’t find a good excuse to set him free. Not yet. Instead, he asked, “If you manage to escape from this, con your way through to freedom – will you try this again?”

“Perhaps.”

“Why?”

The question almost surprised Loki as he straightened his back against the wall and stretched his face into something similar to pained frustration. Why not?

“I am the God of Mischief,” he answered, a coy smile playing upon his lips. “It is what I do.”

And that was the end of the conversation. The forth and final conversation didn’t come around for another three days, after which Clint, Fury, and Maria took their turns watching Tony and Loki. The God spent most of his time goading Clint into shooting him, to give him a reason to misbehave, but surprisingly the assassin had quite the string of patience with a creature who played with his mind a year ago. No one said anything while Fury and Maria had their watchful eyes, until Fury demanded a progress report in which case Loki divulged their sexual rendezvous during the time he had Tony under his control.

Thor was the last Avengers for babysitting duty before they recycled through the team again. Tony, by his standards, made a total of ten percent progress on Loki – and that was being generous. Progress was progress, nevertheless, but he wondered how many squares backwards Thor would send them. Loki already had a practiced expression of unhappiness plastered across his face while he sat stiffly in the lounge couch and Thor sat at the kitchen table with Tony with a solemn expression, much like a kicked puppy. Tony felt like he didn’t belong, but Thor needed his turn and perhaps he could use this against the raven-haired God. Carefully this time, he didn’t need to shut down Loki for a third time.

“So we’ve been free for an entire week,” Tony started, turning around in his chair to straddle it. “How’s it feeling?”

Loki arched an eyebrow. “Amazing,” he sneered. Oh, if sarcasm were verbal poison Tony would be dead. “I have exited one cage only to be put in a larger one.”

“Maybe if you’d give me some leeway – ”

“I tire of you trying to dig through my mind, Stark. Whatever your angle, it is wrong every time you shift it. At this point, I would willingly go back to Asgard as it would be much simpler to escape it a second time instead of bidding my time here.”

“And why don’t you?” Tony asked, resting his chin on the back of the chair. There came no response, not that he expected one, and instead said, “I haven’t tried every angle. There’s still the family conversation I’ve been avoiding like the black plague.”

“As you will continue to do so,” Loki chimed in.

“Mm, not today. Thor was actually telling me some interesting things about the last few days, haven’t you buddy?” He craned his neck around to see the blonde God fidgeting with his coffee mug.

The last four days, Thor had spent his time in Asgard relaying the information from Midgard to the All-Father. While Odin wasn’t happy about it, he at least knew of Loki’s whereabouts so that he could not only ease his own mind, but Frigga’s. The three of them knew where this conversation was heading, and Loki intended to stop it before Tony got his fingers hooked into it.

“Father sends his regards,” Thor nodded. “And mother – ”

“Don’t.”

The blonde listened, but Tony, of course, had to push further. “Your mom misses you, just like you miss her.”

“ _Stark_.” Loki warned, voice low and threatening. This was playing with fire, and damn it all if Tony hadn’t done that half a million times in his life.

“C’mon, we’re all practically family in here so what’s the harm? Well, by family I mean by bonds, that sort of thing. This isn’t the first time we’ve shared family feelings,” Tony taunted, raising his eyebrows to the God. “We hate our so-called dads and love our moms, we’re in agreement to that.”

“Tony Stark does not heckle you, he speaks the truth. Mother wishes you the best, she wishes you to come home – ”

“Stay out of this, Thor!” Loki spat before shooting his fierce eyes to Tony. “And I have warned you about speaking of things you know nothing about.”

“I’m just reiterating what Thor told me this morning while you were sleeping,” he held his hands up defensively. “You told me yourself you respect your mother over everyone else in Asgard, so if you won’t take Thor’s help, or mine, out of your own will, do it for your mother.”

“I will do what I want, when I want without the insistent pestering of you mongrels.” Loki sat on the edge of the couch now, body language dangerous. The two other men in the room saw this, and while Thor readied himself for attack, Tony continued haphazardly. So much for being careful.

“You complain about not having a family, that they betrayed you, yet you hold your mother to such high regard and now what? Are you afraid?”

“Tony…” Thor muttered from behind, standing from his chair.

“She’ll love you no matter what, that’s what mothers do, that’s what they’re there for. All she wants – ” Loki pushed away from the couch with such force it threw the furniture into the wall, cracking the plaster. “ – is for her son to come home, for her own little hero to come home.”

_My little hero._

The words echoed with something unnamable inside Loki before there was nothing but red, the thick and angry heat of red clouding his vision, blurring at the edges. Whatever words were decidedly going to spill out of Tony’s mouth were lost and crushed under the God’s destructive grip around his throat. The brunette met with the table’s top with a harsh _thud_ , a dull pain clashing with the pain around his neck and soon the pain on his face. He saw stars and white splotches in his vision, and between them Loki, and Thor behind him trying to pry him off his comrade. Loki might actually kill him this time. Tony’s vision swam and the shouting from both Gods muddled together into an unclear chorus and then sirens… sirens?

For a moment, everybody froze until Thor and Tony recognized the sirens and the red flashing lights near the doorway. There was a threat in the vicinity, and while Loki would have been an obvious choice, a rumble shook the facility letting them know that Loki wasn’t the only one trying to kill someone. Thor used the moment of surprise to tear his brother off of Tony, and Loki let him for now. Tony struggled off the table, using it as support until his vision cleared. He could taste blood in his mouth, clearly more important than the insistent ringing in the room but not as much as the second, more violent tremor wrecking the base. This one caused Tony to brace himself against the table with both hands.

“Stay here,” Thor ordered, body rigid and tense.

“W-Wait…” Tony managed. It felt like he had a mouth full of marbles. “What is it?”

The blonde stopped halfway through the door to look back at the brunette and replied, “Amora.”

And that was the end of the conversation.


	13. Chapter 13

As predicted, the entire plan ended in ruin. It wasn’t a question of different choices or actions, what one person said and another didn’t, or whether a certain dynamic duo from outer space should have just left matters alone. It was a question of whose plan had been doomed to fail from the beginning – Tony or Loki’s?

At the moment, the S.H.I.E.L.D. sirens were screaming down the hallways and inside every room accompanied by flashing red lights near the doorways, plan Project Heroes had definitely taken a backseat. The freedom, salvation, reconstruction plan hadn’t been going over well anyway, and for the sake of Tony’s face the billionaire was grateful for being saved by the bell. He could feel the left side of his cheek swelling and the blood pooling in his mouth before he swallowed, not to mention the stinging sensation left after the vice grip around his neck. All of that, too, had been pushed to the side and right now all Tony could think about was Amora and, most likely creating the rumbling tension between the base and Earth itself, Skurge. The Enchantress and the Executioner; well if that wasn’t exactly what they needed right now.

Loki stood in the middle of the room, unmoving and silent. He didn’t turn around to watch his not-brother leave the room nor did he catch eye contact with the human he wanted nothing more than to beat into a bloody pool of nothing. His eyes stung and watered, daring to spill but he held his emotions in check with a steely grip. The announcement, rather the physically feeling, of Amora hadn’t quite sunk in, and only Tony’s words echoed in his mind like a unconscious mantra. Why was it that everything this man did unhinged him so easily when he usually had such a hold on himself, to keep the pieces together and only under the most dire of frustrating situation did he lose it? The answer sat in front of him, unclear and imperceptible.

“What’s the chance that Ms. Magic is here because you stole from her?” Tony asked, followed by another tremor. A vicious, aggravated growling roar rushed down the hallway, unmistakably Bruce no doubt.

Loki kept quiet. He felt her, running amok above ground but without his magic he would be useless to do anything but track her nearby location. Of course she would come to play a game of magic against Loki after he stole from her, not to mention Odin blaming her for Loki’s escape, but not here. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk coming to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters just for that, there had to be more. Slowly, the green eyes, dry and reserved, moved up to catch Tony’s.

“She must be after something more than just myself,” he replied evenly. “She would not risk so much just to find me here because I stole a tome.”

Tony nodded, leaning his lower back against the table. They couldn’t just sit there, waiting for the Avengers to assemble and defeat Amora. The base compared to a labyrinth, and if one was unfamiliar with it, one would certainly get lost. Amora didn’t need directions, she could feel Loki as he could feel her and that was dangerous for both of them. He needed his suit, if S.H.I.E.L.D. even carried one of his suits here, and fly himself and Loki someplace safe. He needed to find someone he could trust – Steve.

“Come on,” Tony said as he made his way to the door. “We’re getting out of here.”

Loki followed without another word, keeping close to Tony as they weaved down the hallway through the mass of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. The facility shook again and everyone paused to brace themselves against the walls and each other, a few rookies tripped and let their guns spill across the floor only to be hurried along and shoved back up on their feet. Tony pressed on, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure Loki still loomed about behind him. They received skeptical looks as they bound the opposite way, eyes searching for their Avenger in tow and when it was obvious the two men were working on their own, senior agents stopped them in their path.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, you shouldn’t be – ”

“No, I understand what I shouldn’t be doing by your boss’s standards but we need to see Steve Rogers.” Tony sighed, pushing back against the nameless agent, but he shoved back, keeping the billionaire in place.

“I can’t let you continue without an escort sir – ”

“Escort us, then, to the Captain,” Loki butted in impatiently and the agent dared to glare at him.

“I don’t take orders from war criminals,” he growled, keeping his hands pressed firmly against Tony’s chest as the brunette tried to push again. “I’m not going to ask you again, sir – ”

“Neither is he. Escort us to Captain America.” The brunette brushed off the agent’s hands roughly and nodded in the direction in which he believed Steve to be – near the training rooms gathering his things. If they took too long they would miss him.

The agent pressed his lips into a thin line and took a step back from the two men before reaching over to his shoulder and gripping his radio. He called for Steve Roger’s location and between the chaotic mess around them and the quaking facility there came the reply.

“This way, hurry,” the agent called begrudgingly, and didn’t wait for either one of them when he turned on his heel and practically jogged down the hallways.

Pushing past the crowd like fish swimming up a river, the three men rushed to where Captain Rogers had last been seen. Tony felt dizzy as they struggled to their destination, with all the noise and chaos, the shaking S.H.I.E.L.D. base and the impending doom. Maybe it had to do with Loki almost choking him out several minutes ago, the lack of oxygen playing its unhelpful part. Whatever it was, Tony promised himself a hard drink afterwards, maybe share it with Loki. He did, after all, still owe him a drink.

“Captain!” The agent called out, waving an arm in the air, surfacing above the many heads of confused but conformed soldiers running past.

Steve looked up, baby blue hues searching for the body to the voice and instead found Tony and Loki. He dismissed the young armor clad and fearful looking agent before swiftly making his way over to the brunette.

“These two requested to see you and – ” the agent started, but Steve held up his hand to politely cut him off.

“It’s alright, you can go,” he nodded in the common direction everyone else was heading before turning his attention to his comrade. “What are you two doing alone, I thought Thor was watching – ”

“He was, but then the sirens went off and I thought it was because little miss sunshine was choking me – no I’m fine – but Thor said it was Amora and, judging from the freakin’ earthquakes shaking this place, Skurge is accompanying her,” Tony prattled off, gasping for breath. When did he become so out of breath? “I know this is asking a lot, but I need you to take these cuffs off and please tell me I shipped one of my suits here, I can’t remember if I asked JARVIS to or not.”

“Slow down,” the blonde said. Tony had an idea, a really bad idea, because he was talking faster than his mouth could coordinate. “Why do you need the suit?”

“Amora is most likely after Loki,” the brunette jabbed a thumb behind him. “I need to get him out of here – unless you want to try and ship him in the Quinjet. I figured you guys would make a good distraction while I flew us out of here.”

Conflicted, Steve looked from one man to the next, the short brunette to the tall immortal and back again to Tony. They didn’t have enough time to sit there and think this through, weigh out the pros and cons. Another tremor shook them, and Steve put his hand on the wall to steady himself.

“Steve!”

“What?”

“We don’t have time for this! Unlock my cuffs!” He jingled them in front of the Captain’s face for emphasis.

“Not yet.”

“You know I’m not afraid to hit an old man – ”

“Not yet, I said!” The blonde barked back. “If Fury catches you two alone and without your handcuffs, he’ll detain you quicker than you can think. I’ll escort you to your suit then unlock your cuffs, but Tony…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Dangerous, stupid, not a good idea – we can skip that conversation, let’s go,” he sighed, rubbing the scratchy stubble on his face dryly.

He nodded, reluctantly, and with a quick glance at the two men he led them through the stream of people, down to the weaponry hall without so much as a double take from the surrounding agents. The doors were still guarded, naturally, by two stone faced men who saw no qualm letting Captain America into the weapon’s bay, but stopped Tony and Loki from taking another step forward.

“They’re with me,” he assured them. “It’s fine, Director’s orders.”

Hesitantly, they removed themselves from the pathway. It wouldn’t be long until they called in the Director himself and call the bluff of Steve’s lie. For now it would have to do. Down one hallway, around another corner, and Tony found a familiar suitcase painted crimson and silver. In the long run, he might’ve actually ordered JARVIS to deliver this one over, or the A.I. simply took it upon himself to do it without being asked. Either way, he was grateful for the unconscious effort. Steve turned around, key in hand, and fiddled with the metal handcuffs around his wrists.

“You little liar, I didn’t think you had it in you,” Tony raised his eyebrows at the blonde. When he only pressed his lips together and hummed, the brunette added, “You know I appreciate this, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Steve said plainly, unhooking the cuffs from Tony’s wrists. “And one day I hope my reward isn’t you coming back in a pine box.”

“Not planning on it,” he laid a heavy hand on the other’s shoulder. “Okay?”

Behind them, Loki sighed impatiently. They didn’t have time for this. Tony glanced over his shoulder at the God and scowled, a look that demanded patience from him.

“Look, just give us the cover we need and I can fly his royal pain in the ass out of here. I won’t take off his handcuffs, I won’t let him touch the arc reactor, I just don’t want him dead. I’m sure the reasons Thor and the King of Asgard are enough, right?” He grinned up at Steve, who managed a weak one back. “I’ll come back in one piece, breathing, so trust me on this.”

How many times had he asked for Steve’s trust within the last few days? Too many to count and too many to repay, but the good old boy from the 40s would give him this one more time, for friendship’s sake. He nodded at the brunette, clapped his hand on his back and jogged off to join the fight.

Tony wasted no time getting the suitcase open. He pressed a lever down with his foot and the box came apart. Leaning down, he pressed his hands against two divots and silver pieces snapped up against his forearm, gloves and all. He heaved it upwards towards his chest and spread his arms out, allowing the case to unravel and wrap around him like a second skin, attaching itself gently to Tony’s skin. Loki stood by and watched, stoic in expression but mentally impressed by the capability to shove one human-sized metal suit into a compact case. When the helmet snapped shut and the rectangular eyes lit up as bright as the reactor in his chest, Tony gestured for the God to come near.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” the metallic voice said as he wrapped a protective arm around Loki’s waist.

“This would be easier if you released me from my bonds,” he growled in response.

If Tony said anything afterwards, the engines of his suit in the enclosed space ate it up. While he wasn’t completely sure about which way was out, he did remember the hangar and the route there to the medical bay. Shooting out of the weapons bay like a bat out of hell, the Iron Man, back in action, kept his altitude close to the ceiling as to not scorch the poor people down below. It felt good to be back in his suit, aware of himself and his controls and… JARVIS. Who needed to get lost in the labyrinth of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s base when JARVIS could map it out for him?

“JARVIS, honey, talk to me,” Tony prompted and lit up with a grin when the British voice filled his ears.

“ _It is good to have you back, sir._ ”

“Great to be back, darling, now how about you map this place out for me. Find us the quickest way out, farthest away from Amora and Skurge.”

“ _Right away, sir._ _Scanning the interior of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Headquarters,_ ” the A.I. explained while he synthesized the skeleton of the map on Tony’s H.U.D., fleshing it out by floors. A blinking yellow light appeared – Tony – and beside it a red one – Loki – and a green path etched itself out through the zigzag of hallways. It seemed to stop somewhere in the middle of a place Tony didn’t recognize as either the medical bay or the hangar. “ _The hangar is currently under attack by The Executioner, the location I have provided is the weakest point of the base._ ”

“So basically an up and out route, huh?” Tony simplified. “Just my style. Hold on, Rudolph.”

Loki had no choice but to tighten his grip around Iron Man’s shoulders as he rocketed through the hallways double time, least he fly off into the sea of angry S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. He struggled with keeping a firm hold as his restraints made it difficult to find a sturdy position, but Tony held strong around his waist. The short trip from point A to point B jerked him around and he occasionally slipped after a sharp U-turn. He was tempted to open his mouth and scold the man for his rough manhandling, but with the air rushing past them his voice would be lost. Not like Tony would actually listen. The hero didn’t have to save the villain, this he knew, and at some point he would have to inadvertently thank him for this. The sudden stop had Loki knock his head against Iron Man’s shoulder and he growled.

“Everyone step back!” Tony ordered through the speakers. “And you, keep your head down.”

The God didn’t have to be told twice, he saw the way the iron head tilted upwards towards the ceiling, staring at it, analyzing it. JARVIS had been correct in assuming it was the weakest point of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base, but crashing through the cement ceiling and the handful of yards of dirt didn’t come without its cons. He hunched his body over the raven-haired man to shield him from the brunt of the debris before shooting a repulsor blast at the ceiling. It cracked and he fired another, and another, and one more until chunks of cement rained down. If the on-lookers hadn’t left now, they scattered away in coughing fits as dust and dirt clouded the tunnels.

“Are we clear, JARVIS?” The brunette asked, taking a few steps away from the crumbling debris.

“ _Yes sir._ ”

Without a moment’s hesitation Tony took off with the God of Mischief, leaving a sizable mess of cement chunks and dirt in the middle of the hallway. He shot up through the loosened dirt clot and resurfaced in the middle of a deserted mass of land bathed in moonlight. Keeping close to the ground as to not alert any unwanted guests, Tony assessed the minimal damage on his suit and his surroundings. Nothing for miles except sand and naked trees, like S.H.I.E.L.D. was Area 52 or something. He ground his teeth, that wasn’t exactly what he was hoping for but what else had he expected from an organization above the United States government? An explosion to his right grabbed his attention and he whirled around to watch a Quinjet go down for the count, just barely scratching the rooftop of a short-topped building. What S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t bury beneath the earth became a battleground of agents, Avengers, and villains alike. Another small building burst into green flames and shards of glass – Tony’s queue to get them the hell away from here.

“You alright?” He asked, peering down at Loki through the heads up display. He nodded, staring wide-eyed at the damage the Enchantress and the Executioner were dealing. They had to be after much more than Loki. “JARVIS, nearest civilized area please?”

“ _About a hundred miles Northeast from your location, sir,_ ” JARVIS answered.

Of course Fury would put their base in the middle of a hundred-mile radius of nothing. He sighed and wasted no time shooting off into the suggested direction.

“Stark!” The wind rushed Loki’s voice away and Tony almost missed it. “It – she – us!”

“What?” He slowed and flinched inside the suit when the God grabbed hold of either side of his helmet.

“Bank left!” He shouted hoarsely. His eyes were focused on something, or someone, and his eyes reflected a green of a different entity.

Tony shifted directions with a violent and sudden twist of his body. The rush of green magic narrowly missed the crimson and silver suit and dashed off into the distance, eventually fading out with time. Iron Man followed the path in which the attack had taken with his eyes and caught sight of the familiar green outfit and long blonde hair. Of course she would notice them trying to escape. He cursed, watching the data scroll furiously on the side of the display. Locking on to her, he fired a repulsor blast but to no avail. She practically danced out of the way, simultaneously hurling yet another fiery spell at her enemies. Tony dodged a little less gracefully than the Enchantress, but then again he was carrying a God in one arm. Thinking of Loki, he glanced over at him and if he didn’t resemble a frightened cat clawing to its master in fear of taking a bath, well he wasn’t sure what did. His nails practically dug dents into the titanium alloy as the Iron Man twisted and turned in the sky, attempting to keep them both safe.

“Stark!” Loki shouted, but between the rushing wind and JARVIS relaying information to him, his voice was lost to Tony. He attempted to get his attention by banging a fist onto his faceplate. “ _Stark_!”

“Jesus Christ, Loki, what!” Tony yelled back, if only due to frustration. Amora’s next attack almost clipped one of his legs. He wasn’t going as fast as he could, as he should, because of the God in his arm.

“You need to unbind me or we – ” Loki paused, letting the man concentrate on tactfully firing back another repulsor blast, followed by jerky parries. “Or we will not survive this!”

He was right, goddamn it all he was right, but Tony knew better. He let the suggestion hang in the air as he continued to further the distance between himself and Amora, but the bitch persisted. If he broke the cuffs, Loki would surely teleport off and that would be the last they saw of the God of Mischief for a very long time. But he was slowing him down with the extra weight, not to mention he had to be more defensive than offensive. He frowned behind the faceplate; decisions, decisions.

Amora rained a flurry of dart shaped spells their way, a vibrant purple, adding a sneering glare for good measure. Tony took an up and over route as they fanned out horizontally, twisting his body around so Loki wouldn’t dangle in the crossfire. As he readjusted his axis, he fired off a burst of energy from his hand but it was pathetic compared to what he could do, what Amora was throwing at him. The Mark V wasn’t made for excessive flight use, and the situation didn’t help. Tucking Loki closer to his chest, Tony made a sharp U-turn and ordered JARVIS to redirect all of his energy to the thrusters. He scanned the area in front of him, haphazardly dodging oncoming attacks from behind with the help of his A.I. and Loki’s shouting. In his peripheral, he caught sight of a sizable rock and swerved in its direction. Just before he and Loki were in the clear, Amora finally hit him – a graze on his left leg thruster, but a hit nonetheless. He wobbled and stabilized, landing with little grace behind the formidable rock. He set Loki on solid ground, and the God couldn’t be more thankful for that as the in-flight experience hadn’t been kind to him, and flipped his faceplate up in order to speak. The top part of the rock blew into bits, followed by Amora’s signature manic cackle. They needed to hurry.

“Give me your hands,” Tony demanded, and Loki didn’t have to be told twice.

Everything in his brain screamed this was a bad idea, but in between the shouting of his own conscious, Steve’s warning, Fury’s inevitable disappointment, and the egging of Loki’s voice inside his head there was a tiny whisper. He would trust Loki just this once. The worst he could do was leave them with Amora and fly away to Neverland, disregarding Tony’s Project Hero plan all together. It could be worse. He glanced up at the God, brown eyes accented with green speckles piercing a solid message to the other. Trust. He wouldn’t verbally say it, but the message had been sent and received as Loki nodded sternly in the brunette’s direction.

_You are not going to live to regret this, little man of iron._

Another piece of the rock above them exploded and rained dirt chunks. Tony wasted no time. He curled his metal fingers around Loki’s cuffs and with a simple squeeze they bent, screaming beneath the weight. Pulling the broken metal away, they stared at the raven-haired man’s empty wrists before glancing up at each other for something that needed to be said, but wasn’t. Loki’s mouth twitched upwards into something of a smile, but he tightened his face muscles, demanding a stoic mask to slide into place. Magic gripped him hard, almost too much so, and nearly knocked the wind right out from underneath him. His knees shook, but that was all as he breathed in slowly, deeply, and let it out just as long. It tingled, from his bones right up to the tips of his fingernails, surging through him like a rough wave. Tony watched his eyes brighten, shine within the darkness of the night without the help of reflection and it ripped a shudder from his spine. Loki was back to being Loki, and with that, before Tony could grab him by the scruff of his tunic, the smell of ozone overpowered the dry desert scent and he disappeared.

“ _Fuck him_!” Tony shouted, slamming a fist into the boulder behind him. It didn’t surprise him, but oddly enough it hurt anyway. He dislodged his metal arm from the hole he left, and shook his head. Time to get his head completely in the game now.

The faceplate shut with a dull clamp and Iron Man took to the skies. He could very well take out his anger on Amora, free of the extra weight he’d been carrying. But when he reached his peak, the sensors didn’t show any trace of the witch. Had she gone after Loki?

“ _Sir, five o’ clock_ ,” JARVIS managed before Tony was shot out of the sky. His A.I. had never been too great with picking up magic.

A bright green wave of a spell hit the metal man in his right side, blasting him out of the sky and into the dirt. The HUD beeped at him, showing him the status of damage on his suit while JARVIS let Tony know that his energy had been evenly distributed again.

“Move twenty percent more power to the weaponry,” Tony mumbled, disjointedly lifting himself from the crater.

JARVIS obliged, warning him that flight would be less effective. It didn’t matter, not right now, as it seemed Amora was too preoccupied looking for someone who wasn’t there. He knew the feeling.

The Enchantress trampled the sandy Earth furiously, whipping her head from one area to the next, searching, straining her eyesight for the God that wasn’t there. She turned her chilling gaze to Tony next, spotting only one body. She let out an ugly snarl.

“Where is he?!” She demanded, pointing a boney finger at Tony. “Do not hide him from me! Where is Loki?!”

“Pissed about his little bout of thievery?” Tony chuckled over the speakers. “He high-tailed it out of here as soon as I released him.”

Amora scoffed. “As if I would pester the lot of you over something so petty. Where did he go?”

“Why do you want him so badly?”

“It is none of your concern!” She seemed edgy or anxious; maybe both. Something wasn’t right. “Where is the bastard?”

“I don’t kiss and tell darling,” he teased, throwing his arm up to ready a barrage of rockets.

Six bullet shaped rockets popped out from a compartment in his wrist and shot off, leaving a thin smoke trail. Amora blasted half of them away with a transparent wave of violet before playfully dodging the rest, sending an attack of her own. Tony shot off to the side, flying a short distance around the offending magic before firing off two repulsor blasts, one from each hand. One went wide as Amora dodged it, the other landed at her feet, causing dust and sand to burst upwards from the impact.

“I do not have time for this,” the Enchantress ground out between clenched teeth. “I have no quarrel with you, I only want the Trickster!”

“Tell me why and I might spill the beans.” He wouldn’t, he just wanted to know.

Amora didn’t need to see his condescending facial expression behind the faceplate to know that either. However, she seemed to relax her battle stance, if only a little, taking a slow step back from the hovering man of iron.

“You are all familiar with the Titan, Thanos,” she lifted her chin up to Tony, mouth pulling back into a tight smirk. “So you must know his… infatuation with finding the God who failed him miserably. There is a bounty on his head – think of the rewards I would reap should I be the one to give him to Thanos.”

“You aren’t that stupid, Amora,” Tony shook his head. Loki was right, there was much more to the infiltration of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters than just mere thievery. He sort of wished he had been wrong on this account though. They didn’t need another run in with the Chitauri, the Other, or this Thanos character. “You really believe he’ll reward you with something other than living another day?”

“That does not concern you – you know my motive, now where is he?” She asked politely, her attempt at charming he supposed.

No dice. “Sorry, I don’t know where he flew off to.”

Amora seemed taken back. “You would protect him?”

He opened his mouth to say no, that even though he had a remote idea where Loki might have gone off to, he had no idea where his hideout was. The question, however, posed an interesting thought. If he knew, would he still protect him? While Loki didn’t exactly need protection, not from Amora anyway, he certainly wouldn’t hand him over to Thanos. He wouldn’t hand him over period. Was that considered protecting or being stubborn? Was there a difference in Tony’s case? He clenched his hands at his side before raising them to gun down Amora. That asshole had left him to fight the Enchantress on his own, after trusting him; perhaps protection was too strong of a word choice.

With the question left unanswered to both of them, Amora narrowly missed one blast of energy, only to be hit in the side with the second. She rolled onto the ground, armored attire catching dirt. Tony didn’t wait until she picked herself up and readied the barrage of rockets from his other wrist. They fired, whistling through the air, but the witch threw a shield up at the last minute. The sand flew up again, disrupting Tony’s sight and when it cleared Amora had vanished.

“JARVIS scan the area,” the brunette grumbled, searching the dark landscape with his own eyes.

Nothing but miles of sand, rocks, and cacti – where the hell did S.H.I.E.L.D. plop themselves down? – and no sign of Amora. In the distance, something at the base exploded followed by what sounded like the Hulk roaring into the night sky. Perhaps she had given up and decided to pull herself and Skurge out of this mess. That was fine with Tony, despite knowing what lie ahead of him; a most unhappy Fury and an equally displeased Thor for having lost Loki. Steve might be a welcomed face, since he did come back alive. Scathed, but alive.

The Iron Man suit landed on the ground with a soft thud, sinking into the sand a bit as the thrusters cut off. He stepped over to where Amora had disappeared and crouched down, grabbing a handful of sand. It slipped through his metal fingers, void of anything suspicious. Tony shrugged and lifted himself up to full standing position.

“JARVIS, radio in to the rest of the team,” he sighed, taking a step to the side to turn around.

“ _Yes –_ ”

Tony blinked, the HUD going dark. “JARVIS?” He waited and when the A.I. failed to respond, he flipped his faceplate up. “Damn it, now’s not the time to – ”

As he turned around to face the wreckage of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s base in the distance, he instead came face to face with the haughty blonde from before. Tony caught a gasp of breath in his throat, legitimately surprised to see Amora right fucking behind him and quiet as all hell. Before he could step back, fly away, throw a punch – something, anything – Amora slammed a hand over the suit’s arc reactor and held Tony’s gaze in her own. A wave of static electricity flooded over him, dancing on his skin like butterfly kisses between his suit, and what little breath his lungs were keeping escaped in an oddly calm sigh through his lips. With a cruel grin playing on her lips, she began to mutter in a language he didn’t understand but sounded vaguely familiar.

_What are you doing?!_ The voice in his head screeched. _This is not her body to control!_

But Tony couldn’t move. It was no spell of the mind, no sensual whisper in his head but the eyes in front of him, green and familiar, comforting. And those lips, thin and pink, smooth. Too smooth. Tony wanted his mouth against them, even as it mumbled words of a dead language in a soft voice. He leaned forward without meaning to – _do not dare touch what is not yours!_ – to take Amora’s poisonous lips in his own. He kissed air blasting past him forcibly, along with Amora and her wretched spell. Another rush of wind, a bright blue trailing deep purples, and it collided with the already unmoving body. Tony blinked, then blinked once more when JARVIS assessed the area. One Enchantress and one God of Mischief.

No sooner had the disembodied voice announced Loki’s return did Tony see him, full Asgardian armor, helmet and all. He wore that expression that gave Tony undeniable chills and the foresight not to tease him; because let’s face it, there was at least one helmet joke dancing on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were dark jewels and his scarred mouth pinched back into an ugly snarl as he let one more wave of magic blast through his staff. Behind him, an explosion from a downed Quinjet framed his outline and Gods did he look like the devil himself. All the grace from him had gone, leaving only tight, quick movements fueled by unfathomable amounts of rage.

“He is not yours, Enchantress!” Loki spit his words like palpable venom. “Think again before you touch what is mine, or you will not live another second to regret it!”

Tony opened his mouth to argue, he belonged to no on thank you, but Loki didn’t look to be in any mood for his bullshit and if it kept Amora off his back, so be it. Was this some kind of ultimate insult for sorcerers, or was Loki legitimately upset that Amora had tried to brain fry him as he had done? Maybe a little of both. The Enchantress pushed herself back up on two heeled feet with a choked laugh.

“Is that sentiment I hear?”

Loki let out a wordless, pained and almost forced scream as he threw himself into the next attack. “I am not finished with him!”

There was either a hopeful promise of continuing with Project Hero, or a dark promise of death in the near future. Tony voted the latter, it seemed more practical.

“You will be when I’ve killed him!” Amora growled back and hurled a ball of a spell in Iron Man’s direction.

Tony shut the faceplate and shot up into the sky, narrowly missing a chest full of magic. He answered the attack with one of his own, throwing two repulsor blasts at Amora. Loki fired a green flame from his hand to follow, and damn did it feel good to have some teamwork on his side again. The blonde managed to deflect Tony’s attacks easily enough but, to her misfortune, didn’t act quick enough to dodge Loki’s and she spun backwards as it hit her in the shoulder. The man of iron wasted no time to blast another couple of shots before she got up. The impact, whether it hit Amora or the ground, kicked up a cloud of sand. Tony hovered above the ground next to Loki before cutting the thrusters.

“Thought you left,” he said through the speakers, keeping his eyes on the sand cloud.

“I did,” Loki answered in a tight voice. “And then I returned.”

“Why?”

“Is this really the time to be asking such questions?” He snapped, sparing a glance at the Iron Man.

Tony shrugged, he hadn’t expected an answer but it didn’t hurt to ask. “Who says you’ll be around to answer me after this is over?”

“Who says I will not?”

If his helmet weren’t in the way, Loki would’ve seen the “I smell bullshit” look on Tony’s face.

Amora groaned, shooting a deadly look at the two men. Her shoulder was bleeding, and it didn’t surprise either of them given the generous amounts of skin her armor didn’t cover. She pushed a hand over it and muttered something, most likely to heal herself, while her other hand lifted up to Loki and Tony. Before she shot off her spell, Loki disappeared while the metal man strafed to the side to avoid it. The brunette didn’t panic too much when the God didn’t come back immediately, something told him he’d be back.

For the time being Iron Man preoccupied Amora. He circled around her at a low altitude – JARVIS wouldn’t stop pestering him about the lack of power in his thrusters – throwing everything he could at her. He ordered the computer to patch him in to one of the others, preferably Steve, when they weren’t getting blown to kingdom come. A violet flame whizzed past him and Tony twisted out of its path of destruction only to be blindsided by another. He fell across the sand, legs dragging behind him before he could get his thrusters back into unison. Amora took the man’s floundering as an opening and threw a large, golden ball that splintered out into four smaller darts. Two veered off course and one hit Tony in the knee joint of his left leg while the other was blocked away from his face with the palm of his hand, disabling the repulsor blaster.

“Shit…” he muttered, watching the displays on the side of his display light up. With only one stabilizer on his hands and a damaged thruster on his leg, things weren’t looking too good for Iron Man’s flight system. With the suggestion from JARVIS, Tony landed non-too gracefully on one knee and a smoking hand. “Where the hell is Loki?”

As if on queue, the God appeared before Amora could throw another flurry of magic Tony’s way. He interrupted her with a spell of his own, the green flame again, and it singed a dark line across her waist. After letting out a mildly surprised screech, Amora spun on her heel and hurled the spell with Tony’s name on it towards Loki, who skirted away with relative ease. The brunette looked up to watch the scene unfold as he caught his breath. He stood by as the sorcerers fought, colorful spells igniting the air around them, illuminating faces, and searing leather and flesh. Amora fought as if her life depended on it, furiously throwing spell after spell with hasty movements. Loki on the other hand, beneath the tight sinew of muscle and the skin pulled up into an angry snarl, was all play, dancing about the sandy desert in sharp movements, almost choreographed. It seemed as if the roles were reversed; Loki didn’t look as if he cared about Amora’s plan and Amora looked to be in bigger trouble than she’d expected – or perhaps she was simply that desperate.

Then all at once Amora’s demeanor shifted. She paused a moment to seal her sights on the God of Mischief before throwing a neutral, almost clear spell towards Loki. It missed, but it wasn’t until the clouds of sand exploded in front of him and stayed in the air like some sort of translucent creature did either of the men realize that she hadn’t missed at all. Amora shot off like a bullet, running exceptionally well for someone in heels combating the soft sand, towards the dazed God. Tony pulled himself together, shouting out a warning through the speakers and raising his undamaged hand to fire at Amora. She didn’t miss a beat and with a graceful sidestep she threw a spell his way, a blue wave smashing against his helmet. Inside, there came an ear ravaging ringing that had him clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth in pain to keep the screams from ripping out of his throat. His hands flew up and clamped over his helmet, tugging at it desperately to tear it from his head. It popped off after the gears turned and plates expanded allowing him room to squeeze out of it. The helmet dropped onto the sand, forgotten for the moment as the ringing died in Tony’s ears.

Loki heaved out a vicious cough as his lungs filled with the desert. Amora took advantage of the situation and attacked. She disappeared into the dust cloud and pulled back on one leg as she lifted her other. The heel of her boot collided with the middle of Loki’s chest as she kicked forward, sending the God flying backwards. Amora lunged at him as he gasped for oxygen. The gold staff with the intriguing blue light – she wanted it, if not to cease his infernal otherworldly spells but to return it to it’s original owner with her captive in tow. She snatched it from his twitching fingers and grabbed Loki by the scruff of his jacket, mouth open to snarl something vicious and ugly no doubt but she never got the chance to.

Tony managed to spare a few bursts of energy to his thrusters and speed over to the two sorcerers, simultaneously throwing a few repulsor blasts at the blonde. Two of them hit her in the side, throwing her off of Loki. She tumbled into the distance, allowing a comfortable amount of space between her and the raven-haired male. Tony made his way over to the favorable villain and offered a helpful hand. Surprisingly, Loki took it without gripe or a snappy comment.

“Distract her…” he rasped, rubbing his free hand over his chest. A heel in the chest couldn’t feel great even with inch of leather.

“I’m not exactly in the best of shape to do any more distracting,” Tony gestured down to his smoking suit.

Loki, unsurprisingly, didn’t seem to care. “Do what you must. Call your precious Avengers to help. Just distract her.”

Before Tony could protest, because if it hadn’t been obvious in the flaming distance of the upper levels of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters, the Avengers were a bit busy, Loki vanished again.

Amora used the staff to help steady herself as she brought herself up on two legs, but didn’t bother to use it as an actual weapon, she had only wanted it out of Loki’s grasp. Fortunately, that meant she only had one hand for spell casting, but it didn’t make her any less of a threat. She and Tony danced along the surface of the sand, throwing attack after attack at each other with unrelenting vigor.

“ _Sir, I can’t get a clear connection with Captain Rogers or the rest of the team._ ”

“Keep trying!” He ground out, skirting one of Amora’s attacks and replying with a blast of his own. It missed, creating a burst of sand dust. He spared a hand to press two fingers to his earpiece, shouting, “I’m running out of power and there’s no sign of Loki!”

JARVIS silently adhered to Tony’s command, making another attempt. Meanwhile, the Iron Man suit trudged on through the battle. When this was over, if he survived Amora’s attacks and Loki’s wrath, he definitely needed to upgrade the Mark V. Another repulsor blast and another wave of magic, the vibrant purple spell that fanned out into multiple darts. Tony swore and twisted over them, accidentally allowing a few to scrape against the back of his suit. In the midst of retaliating, he heard static scratching over his intercom.

“T…ny… Tony…?” Steve was behind the interference and it brought a fleeting blip of hope to Tony.

“Steve!” Tony felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders. It might have been the weightless feeling of falling while JARVIS reevaluated his energy supply to his thrusters. He was officially unarmed. “I’m gonna need back-up, preferably someone who’s akin to magic shit.”

“Will Thor… as back…p?” The interference crackled loudly over the Captain’s words, but Tony picked up the vague syllables.

While Loki wouldn’t be entirely too happy about Thor joining in, they had no other choice. The Iron Man suit had no more ammo, nor enough power to keep up the labored flight patterns to avoid Amora’s attacks. They needed Thor. Loki would just have to suck it up.

“Send the big guy! JARVIS, sent Steve my coordi – ”

Amora knocked him from the air with a well-calculated spell between his shoulder blades. Tony grunted as his body impacted the sand harshly, skidding to a painful stop. His head swam and when he opened his eyes they stung with sand and blurred from the dizziness. He groaned, pushing himself up, but Amora was there, pressing down on the back of his neck with her heel.

“I have had about enough of you, man of iron,” she growled, increasing the pressure.

Tony bit the inside of his cheek to keep from whining. A trickle of blood ran down his neck as the pointed heel of the Enchantress’s boot punctured his skin. He let out a low groan as she dug her heel into his neck, adamant of crushing the life out of him slowly, and as the air began to dwindle in his windpipe, the edges of his vision began to blacken. He gasped desperately for air, but suddenly gasped again as a shimmering green and gold figure fizzled into sight. That son of a bitch.

“ _Amora_!” Loki screamed, throwing his arm back to hurl a glowing dagger at the witch.

She looked up, eyes pierced with a flare of unimaginable rage, and caught the dagger in her left shoulder. Amora stumbled backwards several steps, allowing oxygen to flow freely again through Tony’s lungs as he let out a dry grasp. As he attempted to crawl away from the bickering magicians and recoup until Thor arrived, Amora let out a wordless scream of irritation as she pulled the blade from her flesh. The wound was charred around the edges as if the blade had burned her. She threw the enchanted dagger to the ground and hefted up Loki’s staff. Loki sank to one knee, murmuring something – a spell – as quickly as his lips could accentuate the ancient words. His hands began to glow a faint green, clasped together close to his chest, with his head bent down. It was careless of him, Tony noted. He swung his head around, watching as Amora seemed to chant as well, a dark spell that caused the staff in her hand to illuminate. Her legs shook with the effort to channel her energy through the spell, but she managed to keep herself upright until she heaved backwards and launched the spear at Loki before falling to her knees.

Tony didn’t stop to think. He brought himself up and used what energy he had left to fly down the sandy landscape towards Loki. He ignored the smoking gauntlet and the sizzling thrusters on his calves and pressed on. Sand whipped across his naked face as he sped up, passing the flying spear. He cut power to his hands, slowing down, and outstretched his arms to grab Loki out of harms way. But he couldn’t. He dropped in front of what he thought was Loki and tried to lift him up from under his arms and his hands swept right through him. It was an illusion.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat at the realization and the illusion of the dark-haired God disappeared. Time seemed to slow down, but he couldn’t move or think. His eyes widened as he stiffly glanced over his shoulder at the oncoming spear. Beyond it, he saw Amora, wrung dry of energy as she heaved gasps and made an attempt to pick herself up on at least one leg. Behind her, however, was the real Loki, wearing an expression akin to trepidation. He had his hand wrapped around another crooked dagger, steadied in the air and ready to strike the Enchantress down, but as he assessed the damage of the situation he made a different call.

Loki vanished, allowing the dagger to drop into the sand behind Amora, and reappeared in front of Tony. He was shouting something, but Tony’s ears were ringing; it wasn’t as if he needed to hear to know what insults the God flung at him though. A heavy hand gripped his shoulder and he felt the familiar teleportation spell flow through him. Suddenly, Loki jerked against him, eyes wide, and the warm spell stopped. The hand on his shoulder tightened to a vice grip before loosening and slipping off completely. Tony caught him around his waist when Loki slumped against him with a shaky, wet gasp, and the new position gave the brunette a better view of the spear lodged in Loki’s ribcage.

Amora let out a breathy cackle but her victory was short-lived. A little late, Thor came crashing in, accompanied by a fierce flash of lightening that sent the Enchantress tumbling several yards off. Tony took the welcomed distraction to pull the staff from Loki’s body and fly them off to safety with the God tucked in his arms. It wasn’t graceful or clean, and the sudden landing thanks to cut power left little to be admired. The brunette twisted onto his back, taking the brunt of the damage as they fell into the sand for the umpteenth time that night. Loki grunted, pulling off his helmet and tossing it aside. He shifted against the armored man, attempting to pull himself up on shaky arm but to no avail.

“You… s-stupid bastard,” Loki breathed, weakly slamming a fist onto the suit’s flickering arc reactor.

Tony wasn’t sure if he meant trying to save his illusion or just in general. It applied for both, to be honest. He put a hand at the gaping hole in Loki’s back and the raven-haired man hissed, shying away from the touch. Tony picked himself up, maneuvering Loki onto his lap with one hand on his waist, the other going for the wound again but the other slapped it away.

“You need medical attention, it’s bleeding everywhere,” Tony said sternly, watching as the dark crimson dripped thickly over the leather coat and pool onto the sand.

“I have lived through worse,” he replied unevenly, fidgeting as Tony moved him. He settled in a kneeling position between the mortal’s legs. “You truly are… the stupidest man I have ever met.”

“So you’ve said,” the brunette frowned, assessing the wound. The blood just kept flowing. “Why did you save me?”

Loki let out a strangled bark of a laugh, leaning his forehead against the ridged shoulder, disheveled hair flowing forward to curtain his face. He didn’t want to answer that, and his first thought was to lie and say he didn’t know or that he had only saved what he invested himself in. But he felt his mouth moving on his own, with quiet words.

“Because you would have done the same for me.”

Tony didn’t reply immediately, and Loki continued to fill the silence that hung thickly between them.

“You are… so different from Thor. When he speaks, he fumbles and trips and wrecks _everything_ but you say what he wishes to with such ease I,” he paused to swallow the heavy knot in his throat, along with the copper taste of blood. He searched for his words carefully. “Perhaps if I was not drowning in my own madness, buried beneath my many nightmares that haunt me… perhaps I could reach your extension of aid.”

“You still can,” Tony offered, gingerly covering the wound with his gauntlet.

Loki chuckled weakly before lifting his heavy head. He truly hated this man for this sympathetic, sentimental feeling bubbling in his gut like hot coals. So blindly had he gone to save him, the illusion, and just barely had he survived if Loki hadn’t been equally as blind to rescue him. He let a hand crawl up the dirty metal to find the warm, sweaty skin of Tony’s neck. It bruised from their argument earlier, as had part of his face from Loki’s fist, and now he held it gingerly, running a thumb over his pulse. That, too, was bruised, but for an entirely different reason. The God lightly smiled at the memory before leaning up to brush his lips against Tony’s. For a fleeting moment, Tony thought the kiss was his answer and pressed forward to return it, but a cold wind smelling of ozone waved by and left Tony kissing air. The only thing the God had managed to leave behind was an all-too generous amount of blood.

\- - - F r o s t I r o n - - -

It had been two weeks since the incident including Amora and Skurge. S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters wasn’t nearly as damaged as Tony had thought when Thor had to fly him back. Several Quinjets were out of service, several above ground buildings had been reduced to crumbling structures, two dozen or so agents injured, and unfortunately a handful had been killed, but the damage done could’ve been much worse.

Steve looked the most relieved when Tony flew in with the God of Thunder. Natasha and Clint wore similar suspicious expressions, wondering why Tony had been set free in the first place and where Loki had disappeared. Bruce, or rather the Hulk, gave a celebratory shout as his friend and comrade had returned alive and in one, sane, piece. Thor patted Tony on the back heavily, but it lacked the usual jovial smile that reached his eyes. He had questions about Loki he never asked.

Fury laid into him like a lead bullet. Letting Loki out had been the worst idea to have ever come out of the billionaire’s mouth, he knew they should’ve sent him away with Thor before he could cause any more trouble, and to top it off he was missing. Tony sat through the debriefing twiddling his thumbs, numb all around and uninterested in Fury’s words. He had already agreed to help rebuild the base, what more did the Director possibly want from him? He had no information for him, or Thor, on Loki as the God had left as mysteriously as he had appeared.

The little voice in his head vanished, or at least Tony thought it had. Within the two weeks of radio silence, it hadn’t spoken to him, hadn’t visited his dreams, or coaxed him for kill his teammates. The green bits in his eyes, in his bloodstream, that all disappeared as well, leaving him clean of whatever magic had gripped him tightly. It both relieved and worried him.

The two weeks flew by in the blink of an eye, having kept busy with the rebuilding process of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. However, the Avengers were given a short, relaxing leave to Stark Tower to rest and catch up on personal things. Tony had intended to use said time to fix his suits and enhance the Mark V, but after fifteen minutes of tinkering he found he couldn’t concentrate. Perhaps it was Loki’s blood all over the gauntlet he’d been cleaning. He found himself at his bar, pouring himself a glass of scotch, before stepping out on the balcony for some fresh air. It was a cool evening, blowing fresh, crisp fall air through Manhattan. To think, just a month ago he and Loki had stormed Avengers Tower unsuccessfully, having almost killed Steve had Thor not shown up.

Thor. That guy had been in a cloudy mood lately – no pun intended. He still hadn’t asked Tony about what happened during the fight with Amora besides his brother having disappeared. The brunette found him moping around the tower every so often, gazing into his cup of coffee or peering out into the city through the floor to ceiling windows. Something told Tony that there was more to his mood than just his not-brother disappearing, but he wouldn’t ask and he wouldn’t tell until Thor brought up the topic. Loki was a bit of a sensitive issue with him.

The rest of the team slowly fell into their regular routine. Natasha threatening him, Clint teasing him, Bruce and Steve being his best friends. There was still a rough patch between the group and Tony, unanswered questions that were never asked to begin with. If they were waiting for Tony to divulge every little secret, they were going to turn blue and suffocate if they kept holding their breath. Regardless, Tony’s insecurities about being the outcast of the team, more so than usual, shrank to its regular size and left the tower mostly tension free.

The ice chinked in the scotch as Tony swirled the liquid with a twist of his wrist. Eventually he would talk, eventually the bottled emotions sitting heavily in his chest would burst and someone would have to be there, most likely Steve, but for now he would continue the ill habit and drown himself in liquor. As he tilted his head back to take every ounce of scotch in one, smooth gulp, the lights on his floor flickered before shutting off completely and he froze. The wind blew, smelling of clean, fresh air that sat unnaturally in New York City. The city down below full of honking horns and revving engines filled the silence that hung on the balcony for a little more than a minute before a familiar, smooth voice filled the air with one word.

“Stark.”

 

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to thank everyone who took the time to read this C: I hope you all enjoyed it! It's been a while since I've written anything so lengthy, and this is my first full-length contribution to this fandom/ship. Extra special thanks for my followers on Tumblr for putting up with some faulty updates that took a little too long <3 Comments/critiques are always welcomed, loves.
> 
> "Heroes" belongs to David Bowie  
> The Avengers, superheroes and super villains alike, belong to Marvel & Disney  
> The 70k+ words belong to me


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